Always
by FyreBrande
Summary: Next stage in the adventures of Rahna Tabris. Sequel to Aftermath and Absence. Dragon Age world and most characters don't belong to me.
1. The Tainted Elf

1. The Tainted Elf

Despite how much I love adventure, I can't honestly say I mind when the traveling in between is uneventful. In fact, I usually pray for exactly that. My success rate has never been the greatest, however, the Maker seems to be in an agreeable mood where I'm concerned this time. So far, at least. But considering Denerim's only two days behind us, I think I'll keep praying.

Even the weather's been gorgeous, if a bit cool at night, but that's normal. I'm almost waiting for something to go catastrophically wrong. Because something always does with me. But for now, I'm simply going to enjoy the thoroughly uneventful journey. Like my companions. Okay, so maybe Jowan's happier about getting to trade the mage robes for normal clothes again, but there's no denying Nathaniel's mood seems to be improving the closer we get to Amaranthine.

"Somebody's looking forward to being home," I tease, grinning at him.

He shrugs, faint smile pulling at his lips. "That I am, Rahna."

"Gonna visit Delilah after we get back?" My grin widens. Both of us know a visit to Delilah has a _high_ likelihood of including Vi Henley.

Another shrug. "Perhaps. We shall see. I want to be sure you don't need me at the Vigil before I go off on a personal trip."

"'Preciate that," I laugh. "Though I doubt there will be anything I need you for that fast."

"You never know, Rahna." He looks up at the sky. "It'll be getting dark soon. We should be looking for someplace to make camp."

"Sure thing," I nod.

Fortunately, we find a perfect spot only a mile or so further down the road, and get everything set up and dinner cooking just as the sun starts to set. The three of us getting to simply watch a gorgeous sunset, Nate occasionally looking away to check on dinner and make sure it doesn't overcook. Even _his_ cooking tastes bad if overdone.

But my eyes and Jowan's stay glued to the sky, watching it shift and morph through various reds and purples and pinks as the sun vanishes behind the jagged line of trees.

"Gorgeous," I mutter, leaning forward with my elbows braced against my knees and my chin resting on the heel of one hand.

"Mm-hm," Jowan agrees, sounding distracted.

"You okay?" I glance over at him.

He nods. "Yeah. Just... every time I watch a sunset, it's a reminder that I'm lucky to be free to enjoy it. To be able to watch it without walls or windows obstructing my view."

"Mmm. Never thought about it like that," I admit.

He shrugs. "I don't know if anyone who's not a mage would."

"Good point." We lapse into silence, both watching the colors change and lost in our own thoughts until Nathaniel informs us that dinner's ready.

**oOo**

The next few days are just as uneventful as the beginning of our trip, which is too sodding lovely for words. It's not until we're within a day's travel of the Vigil that I feel... well, I'm not even sure exactly what. _Something_. Something I wasn't expecting to sense here for the foreseeable future.

"Rahna?" What's wrong?" Jowan asks when he sees me tense.

"You can't feel it?" I could kick myself for the idiocy of the question; obviously he can't, or he wouldn't be _asking. _I sometimes forget I have an extra year's time as a Warden on him and Nathaniel. "I... there's something... darkspawn-ish nearby." I frown as the vertigo shifts and settles slightly. "And a Warden. Mage, I think."

"How far?" Nathaniel asks softly.

_Trust him to be all business..._ I point off the path. "Not very. It's over there. But it... it feels different than usual."

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"It's... muted. Not as harsh as darkspawn usually are, but still _there_. I think the only reason I noticed it is because there's a Warden, too."

"We should still see what it is. If it's in any way darkspawn, I don't want it causing harm."

"I know, Nate. Neither do I. Let me check it out first."

"Rahna-"

"You can be right behind me," I cut him off, knowing what he's going to say. "Just let me look before we do anything."

He sighs and nods reluctantly. "As you wish."

"Jowan, you wait here. Unless you hear me start hollering bloody murder or something."

He shoots me a Look. "Be careful, Rahna."

"Aren't I always?"

"_Rahna_."

"Yes, ser," I shoot back, giving him a playful salute before vanishing into the underbrush lining the road, Nathaniel not far behind.

**oOo**

Whatever I was expecting to find, my actual discovery still catches me off guard.

"_Velanna?!_"

"Elgar'nan!" The blonde elf leaps up, staff in hand, and whirls to face me. "Whoa, whoa! It's me!" I hold up a hand.

The ash wood staff lowers slightly, and the fire spell starting around her hand dies off. "Commander? What are you doing here?"

"I'm still in charge of Amaranthine, Velanna. I think I should be asking _you_ that." I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at her.

"I..." her voice falters. "I was coming to ask for your help..." the sentence trails off, as if she has difficulty uttering it.

"After you just _vanished_ in the middle of a battle, you were going to ask for _my_ help?!" I repeat in disbelief. I knew she was audacious, but this is pushing it even for _her_.

"Not for me, Commander," she asserts quickly, anxiously. "For him." She steps aside and finally allows me a view of her campsite-including her previously hidden companion, if you want to call him that.

I suck in a sharp breath when I see him, suddenly understanding why I was sensing darkspawn-and why it was so odd. "Nathaniel, get Jowan!" I holler over my shoulder as I step closer.

The elf lying in a semi-conscious state by the campfire is tainted by the darkspawn corruption, so far gone his eyes have gone silvery-grey. His intricate crimson _vallaslin_ stands out in sharp relief against ashen skin, patches of corruption gnawing at his cheeks, jawline, and neck. I can't see the rest of him for the blanket wrapped around his body, but I'd be willing to bet it's just more of the same. _Maker, how is he still alive?_

"Who is he?" I finally ask Velanna when I manage to tear my gaze from the ailing elf.

"He... he is a hunter from the Alerion clan. I did not know him well, Commander, but his Keeper and Ilshae were good friends. She spoke often of his skill as a warrior."

"What happened to him?" I demand as Nathaniel and Jowan arrive.

"I... do not know," Velanna admits. "He and another even worse off than he is attacked me in the Brecilian Forest. When I killed the other one, he gave up. And I thought... the Joining cures the corruption, doesn't it?"

It suddenly dawns on me what she wants. "Velanna, I can't. We don't even know that he would survive the Joining."

"You could at least _try_. He's one of the best warriors in his clan, to hear Keeper Marethari tell it." She's almost _pleading_ now, a fact that shocks me almost as much as her abrupt return.

"And would he be as... Dalish as you? Would he call me flat-ear and hate the human Wardens for past crime against your people? I have a hard enough time holding everything together with Zimri involved. If I add another shem-hating Dalish to the mix, the Vigil very well might explode." The mere thought is giving me a headache.

"Rahna, you have to at least _try_," Jowan protests.

"It's not a charity, Jowan. And _trust_ me, it might be kinder to let him die than force our life on him," I point out, wondering why he seems to care so much. I look down at the topic of our conversation, who's currently too out of it to even _care_, a faint sheen of sweat coating his skin, his chest heaving as he gasps for breath. "He's probably too far gone as it is..." That argument sounds weak even to me.

"With respect, Commander, it's at least worth a try," Nathaniel chips in.

"Do tell." I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You have a rare knack for convincing people who would never normally be able to stand each other to work together," he explains. "_If_ he survives the Joining, I'm quite certain you could make things work. And you _do_ have a reputation for giving second chances to supposed 'lost causes'."

Blast it all, he has me there, and he knows it from the damned smirk he's giving me. "Oh, fine. On _one_ condition: Velanna, you come back with us. I think having a fellow Dalish around will make things easier for your friend there if he survives."

She nods grudgingly. "As you wish, Commander."

"He doesn't have much time before even the Joining won't help. Nate, you better carry him." I take another look at the delirious hunter and pray we make it back in time. "What's his name?"

"I don't know his given name," Velanna admits, hurriedly dousing her fire and snatching up her pack. "But his Keeper called him Mahariel."

**oOo**

Even burdened as he is by the tainted elf, Nathaniel easily manages to keep up as we head for the Vigil with all possible haste. We push on in silence, our pace too great for extended conversation. All of us know where we're going and we're running out of time, not knowing how long Mahariel has. Everything in me wants to demand explanations from Velanna, from why she left to more details about how she found her new friend. But that'll have to wait for now. Saving a life-if we even can-is more important than me getting answers just a little bit sooner.

I pull ahead as we near the Vigil's outer gates and start hollering for them to open up. Soon as the men see it's me, they practically trip over themselves to obey.

"Commander, there's something the seneschal wants to talk to you about..." one of the soldiers begins as we hurry toward the inner gate and the keep beyond.

"Thank you for telling me, but it'll just have to wait," I reply breathlessly. "This is a matter of life and death."

By the time we reach the throne room, the entire keep seems to know something's not right.

"Commander, what-" Varel begins when we enter, but stops himself as he sees the limp form in Nathaniel's arms. "Oh, dear Maker..."

"I know it may be too late, but I promised Velanna we would see if the Joining can save him," I explain hurriedly. "Fetch the chalice and the necessary supplies."

"Of course, Commander," he bows. The servants are already scurrying to collect what we need before he can even give the orders. We very promptly have everything we need. Since Varel went ahead and spoke the traditional words while we were waiting, as soon as we have the chalice and the blood, I cautiously pour a bit into Mahariel's mouth. He coughs, gags, but swallows, which is a heartening sign. Now we just need to see if he survives.

I can hear Velanna murmuring prayers to the various Dalish gods, and I offer a fervent whisper of my own to the Maker. _I don't know __**why**__ he means so much to her, but he __**does,**__ so please let him live..._

The tainted elf convulses on the floor, the corruption in his blood meeting the Wardens' concoction. His back arches, his hands clench into tight fists, and his eyes roll back in his skull. This lasts for a few seconds that seem to move far more slowly than they actually do before he goes limp again, looking for all the world like a puppet with its strings cut.

Velanna bends close, practically radiating anxiety. "He's alive," she informs us, relief plain in her voice. The sentiment is apparently shared, as the entire room seems to let out a breath none of us knew we were holding.

"Alright, so now we can try to do something about curing all the damage caused by the taint," I mutter. I motion to a couple of the guards. "You can put him in one of the available rooms. Velanna, you go with them, see what you can do for him."

She nods. "Of course, Commander."

"The taint did a number on him. He needs healing, and lots of it. Where's Anders?" I ask, glancing around the throne room. I see Sigrun and Oghren, Nate and Jowan were with me, and Velanna is trailing after the men carrying our newest Warden from the room. But I don't see Anders. _Figures he'd go haring off today, when we wind up needing him so badly..._ "Where'd he go?"

Sigrun and Varel exchange a worried look. "Um, that's what we need to talk to you about, Commander," the dwarf begins meekly.

"Why? Where is he?" I demand. I don't like the look on her face, and downright _hate_ the deep foreboding that squirms through my gut.

She swallows hard and looks at the seneschal again for courage. He nods and rests a hand on her shoulder. She faces me and bites her lip. "He... He's gone."

_A/N: And with that, I have worked in a Warden from every origin. *proud of myself* XD Essentially, I decided to tweak the Mahariel story timeline a bit, make the chain of events start later and change a few other little things that I'll go into detail about somewhere in the next couple chapters, when Rahna learns her newest recruit's story. And his first name._

_ And about Anders... *cough* I'm sorry, I really am, but I am trying to make DA2 fit in Rahna's canon, and there's not a lot of leeway if I want the timelines to match up. Further explanations next chapter. And a very. angry. elf. _

_ I hope you all have/had(depending on time zones and when you read this) a very Merry Christmas despite my being so evil._


	2. Repercussions

2. Repercussions

"Explain." The word slides out between my tightly clenched teeth as I try not to erupt before I know the whole story.

"Can... Can we do this in private, Commander? Please?" Sigrun asks, eyes pleading with me to say yes.

"That would be the wisest course," Varel agrees.

Despite wanting to snort and demand to know when I've ever stuck to 'the wisest course', Sigrun looks so miserable I acede to their wishes. "Fine. Where should we go?"

"There's a room we were using as an office of sorts while you were gone." Varel replies. "We can talk there."

"Lead the way," I sigh.

He nods and does so, Sigrun trailing behind him with me at the back. "Here we are." Varel opens the door to a small study, most of the furniture still covered by dustcloths, except for the desk and two wooden chairs.

"So, who's explaining?" I demand as soon as the door's clicked shut behind us.

"I... I will, Commander," Sigrun volunteers. "I'm the one who screwed up, it'll sound less like finger-pointing and more like accepting the blame if I do it."

I quirk an eyebrow at that, wondering what on earth she _did_, but I don't speak.

She takes a deep breath and fixes her eyes on the far wall before she begins. "I-It started after you wrote and said you were staying an extra few months in Denerim for the celebration or whatever it was the queen was planning to have. Even with Varel helping me, I was feelin' overwhelmed, and I didn't like the idea of things being like th-that for the next few months, so when he offered to help, I took him up on it."

"Who offered to help?" I ask.

Sigrun's gaze flicks ever so briefly to meet mine. "Z-Zimri."

_Oh, __**sod**_.

"His legs were still healing, so he couldn't do anything too active, he said," she continues. "He offered to help w-with assigning patrols, handling any needs that might crop up among the Wardens here." She bites her lip. "And with the rebuilding still going on, I was feeling in over my head and needed all the help I could get, so... I took him up on it."

"Let me guess," I growl, "The first thing he did was assign Anders and Rolan to patrol together?"

Sigrun nods. "He just told me he had things under control whenever I asked, and I was idiot enough and overwhelmed enough to believe him," she says miserably. "I didn't find out until after things went three different kinds of wrong, but Zimri m-made Anders give Pounce to Delilah. Said having pets would make a Warden soft when I confronted him about that."

"So, what happened?" Everything in me already wants to pound Zimri's arrogant arse into the ground, but I figure I should hear the whole story before I go after him.

She shifts uncomfortably, staring hard at the wall again. "We... don't know exactly for sure. It happened about... a month ago?" She looks up at Varel for confirmation and he nods. "Rolan and Anders were late getting back from their patrol. I figure they've found something that warrants a bit more investigating, no need to get alarmed, they'll be back soon. But after a couple more hours go by and they still aren't back, _then_ I get worried. So Varel and I get on our armor, grab our weapons and leave Cor in charge while we investigate."

Part of me thinks it knows what happened, and if I'm even partially right, I am going to kill Zimri and Rolan both. But still I keep my mouth shut and nod for her to continue.

"We didn't find an-anything out of the ordinary for the first half of their route. It was just into the second part that things started to seem amiss." Sigrun bites her lip, obviously not enjoying this part of the retelling. "A-And that's when we found... _them_."

"Who, Sig?" I'm trying to keep my voice calm, but I need to know.

"R-Rolan... and the templars."

"_**Templars?!**_" I was right. _I am going to kill that pair of sodding zealots as soon as she's done._

"They were dead, Commander," Varel says, smoothly taking over the telling of the story from Sigrun, who looks relieved to let him tell this part. "All of them, torn apart. I've never seen such carnage."

"And what about Anders?" I demand.

"We... don't know, Commander," Varel admits. "From what we could tell, examining the ground, there was one set of footsteps that ran off alone. But since Anders has taken to wearing armor, we couldn't tell if they were his or a templar's. They headed for the city with only a little meandering, from what we could see."

"Then it couldn't be Anders'," I mutter. "He'd never just _leave_."

"Then where is he?" Sigrun asked. "If he isn't dead and you're right; he wouldn't just leave, then where is he?"

It doesn't bode well that none of us can come up with a good answer. So I decide to channel my anger the best way I know how.

"Where's Zimri?"

I need to have a chat with Sigrun's "assisstant".

**oOo**

Even with directions from Sigrun, it takes a few minutes to find the room that became Zimri's once the healers felt he was doing well enough to leave the infirmary. But I _do_ find it, and don't even knock before throwing the door open.

_"Merde!"_ Zimri glares at me. "Is it asking to much to request that you _knock_ in the future, _Commandant_?"

"Is it asking to much to request that you set aside your templar biases in the future, _Warden_?" I fire back, seething and just about ready to erupt.

Zimri hasn't known me long enough to realize how close he is to being in very big trouble. Or maybe it's the ten inches of height and several pounds of muscles he has on me that make him feel safe. If it's the latter, oh boy is he in for a surprise. Whatever his reasoning, he decides to go with playing dumb. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, _Commandant_."

_Ooooooh, Maker, he's __**asking**__ for it!_ "Anders," I retort, striding further into the room. "What did you and Rolan _do_?!"

"Oh, that." He shrugs. "You trust your mages too much, _Commandant_.If they are not supervised closely enough, they can turn, no?"

"Wait, wait, wait." I'm right in his face now, glaring at him fiercely despite the difference in height and jabbing a finger into his chest. "Are you telling me that you and your new best friend _turned Anders in to the templars?!_"

"Tried to," Zimri spits back venomously, unwisely ignoring the rising volume of my voice. "From what I hear, he _did_ turn, and slaughtered them all." He snorts at incredulous outrage that's plain across my face. "You do not _honestly_ think the templars would fall so easily to wild animals, did you?" He pauses, shrugs. "Though I suppose there is little difference, no?"

_That's_ when I hit him. A solid swing that connects wonderfully with the center of his gut. As he curls forward from a combination of shock and pain, I grab a fistful of his shirt to pull him down harder and faster, raising my knee enough to meet his face. They collide with a sickening crack. Zimri howls and I wince at the brief, shallow pain that flares in my knee. When he recoils, I let go of his shirt and sweep his legs out from under him. He lands hard on his back, one hand still clapped over his face, blood dripping between his fingers from his most likely broken nose.

Zimri curses in Orlesian, groaning and muttering under his breath as he rolls over and tries to regain his feet. I kick his supporting arm-a little harder than I meant to, if I'm honest-and hear something pop as he collapses. I don't bloody care. You don't shift blame like he tried to do, you don't cling so tightly to old biases, and you absolutely _do not_ talk about my friends like that.

My anger is probably what drives me as I grind my knee between his shoulder blades to keep him down and twist his good arm behind his back hard enough I'm a fraction away from breaking something.

"I do not take kindly to people insulting my Wardens, _ser_," I hiss in his ear, stressing the title. "I'd suggest watching your tongue in the future."

He snaps a retort in Orlesian and tries to wriggle free, embarrassed, I'm sure, by how easily I took him down.

I retaliate by pressing my knee even harder into his back and applying more pressure to his arm. "Bad idea, you-"

"Commander, stop!"

The hands that grasp my arms are firm but gentle as a couple people team up to haul me off the swearing Orlesian.

"Lemme go, you didn't hear what he _said_!" I protest, struggling against the unyielding grip.

"Rahna." One set of hands releases my arm and Nathaniel moves to stand between me and Zimri as the warrior struggles to his feet. "Whatever it was, it's not worth this."

He's right, and I hate that fact more than I ever have before. "But he-"

"Isn't. Worth it," Nathaniel insists, his hands pressing firmly against my shoulders to hold me back.

"Nate, he and Rolan tried to turn Anders over to the templars!"

Zimri spits out a mouthful of blood and glares at me, cradling his injured arm close to his chest. "And had he been here, we would have given them your maleficar, as well."

"Rahna, Rahna, _**don't**_." Nathaniel tightens his grip on my shoulders as I go white with rage and try to surge past him. "He's just baiting you!"

"I don't bloody care!" I scream, at a disadvantage because someone-Varel, I think-is still holding my other arm and consequently, I can't get proper leverage to shove past Nathaniel.

"You need to," he insists. "If you just beat him senseless, however badly he may deserve it, it may cast doubt on your ability to command a garrison, at least in the minds of your superiors. If you want there to be any hope of him receiving proper discipline, you need to handle this _right_."

"Have I ever told you I _hate_ it when you're right?" I mutter, forcing myself to relax.

"I believe you have mentioned it, yes," Nathaniel replies, warily lowering his hands. _He_ seems to relax when I prove I wasn't just waiting for an opening to charge Zimri again.

"Well, it goes double for now." I rake my hair out of my eyes with my free hand and glower at Zimri as Varel cautiously releases my other arm. "As for you, ser Caron, report to the infirmary to have your injuries tended to." I give him a sickly sweet smile. "Regretfully, thanks to you, I've lost my best healer. So you'll have to settle for someone who's... not quite first-rate. After that, I want you to return to your quarters and here you shall remain until I hear from the First Warden how he thinks I should deal with you. Nate, would you mind accompanying him?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all, Rahna."

"Thank you." I turn on my heel and stalk from the room, still in such an exceptionally bad mood, I'm not even going to _try_ to think straight.

**oOo**

It wasn't until Rahna was out of earshot and the two men had begun walking toward the infirmary that Zimri felt it safe to mutter under his breath, "_Chienne elfique..._"

Unfortunately for him, Nathaniel not only _heard_ the nearly-inaudible epithet, he understood it. Before the limping warrior knew quite what had happened, his already-sore back was slammed against one wall of the hallway and the archer had a white-knuckled grip on a fistful of his shirt collar.

"There are very few things in this world that truly rile me, _ser_, but near the top of that short list would be someone insulting the commander. So I would suggest that in the future you curb you tongue and _**never**__. _Call her that. _**Again**_**.**" He released Zimri's collar and yanked the other man away from the wall, propelling him forcefully in the direction of their original goal.

This time, Zimri wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.

_A/N: So. Bit short. Sorry about that. Between work and holidays and family stuff and uncooperative muses, this is the best I could do. It was very, very hard to make Anders' DAII storyline mesh with Rahna being commander. Especially if I wanted to count his short story as canon, which I did. This is the most plausible thing I could come up with. I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen to Zimri in the grand scheme of things, but one thing I do know: Rahna is __**never**__ going to forgive him. Ever. The only reason she didn't kill him is because Nate and Varel interrupted._

_And on the subject of Nate, I figure if he's an arl's son, and was squired in a city that served as a trading hub-like Kirkwall-the odds are at least decent he'd know *some* Orlesian... Enough to know Zimri called Rahna an elven bitch. And as we've seen before, Rahna's friends don't take too kindly to people calling her that. ;)_


	3. Regrets

3. Regrets

It's chilly up here. We're firmly in that time of year when the weather can be warm one day and cool the next, and while today is tolerable when you're on the ground-or too angry to pay attention to silly little things like the temperature-up on the walls, there's a noticeable bite in the wind.

I hug my knees into my chest and rest my chin atop them as I fume. I've cooled off only slightly since storming out of Zimri's room who knows how long ago, but it's enough to wish I'd thought to grab a cloak.

The chill's not the only reason I'm shivering, though. I'm truly flat-out and desperately worried about Anders. One small part of my mind can't shake the horrifying and growing fear that Zimri was right; Anders turned into an abomination and slaughtered Rolan and all his templar friends. No matter how many times I remind myself that there was no trace of anything other than humans having been there, that insidious little echo in the back of my mind won't go away.

_He wouldn't. He couldn't. Oh, Maker, what happened to him?!_ I know worrying like this doesn't do any good, but it's this or give Zimri another thrashing. And since Nathaniel was right-if I don't handle this correctly, the man's deserved punishment may not be forth-coming-I really don't want to do that.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Wha-!" I start at the question, having been so lost in thought I didn't even notice I had company.

Jowan smiles apologetically. "Sorry. But I came from your good side this time, so you can't blame that on your bad eye."

"You're forgiven, and sure you can join me. Dunno if you really _want to_ right now, but I don't mind," I shrug.

"Wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to," he points out as he sits next to me. "Oh, and I brought you something..."

"Oh, Maker bless you, you wonderful, wonderful man!" I exult as he passes me a cloak the same dark blue as the one wrapped around his shoulders.

Jowan laughs as he watches me wrap it around myself. "Well, that's a new one... never had anyone call me wonderful before..."

I shoot him one of my _don't start that again _looks. "Well, you are. You are as wonderful as Zimri is horrible."

"Rahna, don't... There's nothing you can do."

"But there's plenty I _could have _done," I argue. "I could've come back between the wedding and the ceremony, I could've brought Anders with us, I could've explicitly told Sigrun not to trust that damned Orlesian with _anything_-"

"Rahna." Jowan slides an arm around my shoulders and gives one a comforting squeeze. "You're always telling me not to dwell on the things I could've or should've done differently but didn't. Allow me to return the favor. Don't do this to yourself. I know what that regret feels like. It's nothing but self-destructive, as you've reminded me more times than I can count. Focus on the future, and remember that none of us are going to like you any less."

I give him a wry half-smile. "Wow, you were actually listening."

"Y'don't need to sound so surprised..." he grumbles, but I can see the smile underneath.

"Thanks, Jowan."

He looks over at me, his smile bemused now. "Didn't really do anything..."

I reach up to rest my hand over his on my shoulder. "Sure you did. Your just being here would be enough, but the reminder one mistake doesn't turn me into a bloody great failure is even more appreciated."

He snorts. "I learned from the best."

I chuckle. "I can tell." My angle is awkward, but I still lean over to give him a sideways hug. "I should probably go see how our newest Warden is doing... And get started on that letter I need to write the First Warden."

"Alright, then." Jowan stands and offers me a hand up, which I accept. "What I'm wondering..." he hesitates, sighs. "What if the First Warden just sees this as you not having enough confidence in your own judgment and trying to push this off on him?"

I purse my lips. "Fair point. I'll just explain about the extenuating circumstances and grievous nature of Zimri's crime. But I'll worry about that after I check on Mahariel."

**oOo**

As I wind my way down the Vigil's hallways in search of wherever my newest recruit wound up, I'm seized by a moment of doubt so strong it nearly brings me to my knees.

_Did I do the right thing?_ I take a deep breath, try to ignore the arguments assembling in my head. _He's Dalish, probably very proud of that fact, if the intricacy of his vallaslin is any hint. I know __**nothing**__ first-hand about how skilled a warrior he is; only a second-hand report from Velanna that he's good. All I really know for sure is he's Dalish and tough enough to survive the Joining. What was I __**bloody**__ thinking?!_

The voice inside me that sounds an awful lot like Jowan and stops me when I get like this rebutts, _But you're good at reading people, almost __**infuriatingly**__ so at times. Just trust your instincts. It was the right thing to do. You friends all trust you, so why can't you trust yourself?_

I shake my head and decide to ignore the ongoing argument, at least for now. I have more important things to do than argue myself into a tizzy right at the moment.

I finally locate our new arrival's room; not far from Anders', a fact I can't ignore that gets my ire rising. I force myself to simmer down. No point going in angry. I'll need every drop of patience I possess to talk to Velanna.

When I enter the room, Mahariel is still sleeping. Considering what he must have gone through, this is hardly surprising.

"Commander," Velanna nods, smoothing the bandages wrapped around the elven warrior's bicep and wrist. "The corruption did more damage in some places than others," she explains when she sees me staring. "He... may have scars; I'm far from the best at healing."

"So long as you did all you could, no one will have any reason to fault you," I reply crossing the room to join her.

She gives me a wan, wary smile. "That I did, Commander."

"Well, now that he's out of immediate danger, and since I have to wait to talk to him, perhaps you'd care to tell me _your_ story? Starting with when you _vanished_ in the middle of a battle." I raise an eyebrow at her.

"That wasn't my fault!"she retorts hotly, biting her lip in chagrin as her patient moans quietly in his sleep. "Not entirely, at least."

"Do tell." I lean against the wall and try my best to look non-judgmental. "Anders and I figured you did that thing with the roots. Were we right?"

She nods and takes a deep breath. "Yes. When the wall started collasping, it was just... pure _instinct_. The only direction I could think to give was _Not here_, so when it finally emerged elsewhere, I had no ide where I was." The memory disturbs her, I can tell. "A Dalish who didn't know where she was in the woods... I may as well have bleached my _vallaslin_ from my skin. I was so disoriented, it took me almost a full day to get my bearings. I was on the far south outskirts of the Wending Wood, nearly to the North Road."

"Still, it shouldn't have taken you more than a few days to get back, tops..." I point out. "I was worried about you, Velanna."

She blushes. "Thank you. And... I'm sorry, I suppose. I had every intention of returning, I swear it. But... I thought I saw Seranni. It wasn't her, just a trick of the light or something, but I'd followed my hopes about another half hour south before I finally admitted that to myself. Then I figured there wasn't any point in coming back here; you didn't need me and no one would miss me. I... missed my people, Commander. I thought maybe I could find another clan, travel with them for a time." She meets my eyes, a wry tinge seeping into her smile now. "Dalish I may be, but a tracker I'm certainly not. Took me a month and a half to find a clan. And I only traveled a few weeks with them."

"How come?" I frown. Brusque as they may be to outsiders, the Dalish are always welcoming to their own.

"The nightmares," she replies softly, glancing at Mahariel as if wondering whether he'll have them as badly as she does. "I would wake up screaming every few nights from the darkspawn in my dreams. I finally decided not to strain their hospitality any longer and left. It wasn't too much later that I... _encountered_ Mahariel and his friend."

"Right, then," I murmur as we both eye the elf in the bed. "Another question for you: How'd you hold off his taint for so long? Normally infected people are mindless ghouls a couple weeks in, completely beyond saving."

"There's a spell..." she begins, looking down at her hands. "A spell that can slow down poisons, delay the spread of infections. Marethari shared it with Ilshae long ago, and she taught it to me. It... takes a lot of energy, so to maintain it while dragging him here, well... as you see, it took some time."

"Mm. Are you alright?" I ask, genuinely concerned now. If she was maintaining a spell like this for _weeks_, and then had to heal him and patch him up on top of that... "You must be exhausted."

Velanna shrugs. "Sleep would be nice," she concedes, "but I need to be here for him. Can't do that if I'm asleep, Commander."

"Very true," I concede with a nod. "In that case... You need anything?"

She shakes her head, settling into the sturdy wooden chair already dragged to the side of the bed. "No, I'll be fine. But... thank you for offering."

_Wow, you __**are **__softening..._ I can't help but think as I nod in reply. "Alright, then. I'll leave you be." I need to talk to Varel anyway. "I'll chack back in later, make sure he's still alright and you don't need anything."

**oOo**

Varel isn't hard to track down; he's back in the makeshift office where he and Sigrun told me about Anders, diligently trying to make a dent in the small mountain of paperwork rising off the desk. He looks up when I rap my knuckles against the doorframe. "Yes, Commander?"

"Do you have a few minutes? You look like you're busy..." The things I want to talk about can all wait, if need be.

"I am that," he concedes with a chuckle, "but I'm having too much trouble concentrating anyway. What did you need?"

I shrug and lean against the wall. "Just wanted to make sure things ran smoothly for you while I was gone, aside from, y'know, the Anders fiasco."

"Mm." Varel nods. "They did. With things so quiet, I was able to spend a good deal of time helping Cor settle in to being captain of the guard."

"How are the militia taking it?" I ask, twirling a loose wisp of hair around my finger. "I know he's younger than most of them. In my experience, resentment can be an issue in a situation like that."

"There has been some grumbling, but only a small amount," he replies, resting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. "Young as he may be, Cor is well-liked by the rest of the men, and the vast majority know he'll do an excellent job." Varel chuckles. "In fact there are times I wonder if his men have more confidence in their new captain than he has in himself."

"It's hard being handed that much responsibility at that age. Trust me," I riposte.

"Oh, I do, Commander. I'm sure you know that better than anyone else under the Vigil's roof."

"No arguments here." I bite my lip. "And... does he have a sweetheart or anything like that?"

"Taken a fancy to him, Commander?" Varel teases.

"No!" I blush as I realize how that must have sounded. "I'm sure he's a fine young man, but my heart's not quite ready to try falling in love again. I just know how a romantic relationship can affect your ability to do your job, both in good ways and bad."

"Ah. I do believe he and one of the healers are _together_, if that's what you're wondering, but I don't know how serious the relationship is. I haven't caught him drifting off to dreamland while on duty, if that's what you're worried about."

"Good enough for me. One last thing, how's Sigrun holding up? I know she didn't like the idea of me leaving her in charge to begin with, and for... what happened to have happened while she was in charge..." I let it trail off, not entirely sure how to finish the sentence.

Varel purses his lips in thought and then sighs. "I know she took it hard, Commander. She was good friends with Anders, and she felt a responsibility to do a good job with the task you gave her. With her penchant for being hard on herself, I don't doubt a word of encouragement from you would do her a world of good. It certainly wouldn't _hurt._"

"Thank you, Seneschal." I push away from the wall.

"Happy to be of service, Commander," he replies.

"I'll let you get back to it." I nod at his paperwork. "I have a dwarf to track down."

"Good luck," Varel calls after me as I leave.

"Mmmm." I lift a hand in a half-wave of thanks. I think I'm gonna need luck, and lots of it.

_A/N: I don't relish the day when Rahna finds out that-arse he might have been-Zimri __**was**__ right about Anders, at least sort of. That's not going to be fun, for her or for me. *cough* Or Anders._

_ So, yes, next chapter there will be Rahna and Sigrun having a heart-to-heart, and hopefully some more info for our Commander about her new recruit._


	4. Pep Talk

4. Pep Talk

Sigrun's response to my knock on her door is a mumbled, "Come in," so I do. She's flopped across her bed on her stomach, staring fixedly at the snowglobe on the bedside table, watching the small white flakes swirl around the figures inside.

"You okay, Sig?" I ask as I cross to sit on the bed next to her.

She sighs and reaches up with one hand to give the snowglobe a shake as its contents settle. "...Not sure, Commander," she admits. "You trusted me. Much as I didn't like the idea, you trusted me to do a good job while you were away, and I couldn't even keep things running right for three sodding months." She rests her chin on her hands, making a concentrated effort to not look at me. "I really am a worthless duster..."

"No, you're not," I contradict emphatically. "Much as I dislike the man personally, Zimri is a Warden. We're supposed to be able to trust our own. Things went wrong because Zimri and Rolan were a pair of pretentious, bigoted asses, not because you did anything wrong."

"Commander, I let Zimri help with working out patrol schedules," she protests, finally turning to look at me. "I enable them to... do _something_ horrible to one of the best friends I've had in my life, and now you don't have a healer-"

"Sig, I have two," I correct her. "Jowan and Velanna can both heal. They may not be as good as Anders, but we're not exactly in a time where we need the best of the best right now, either."

"Velanna's staying?" Sigrun raises an eyebrow at this bit of information.

"For awhile at least, yes. Her warrior friend isn't going to know what's going on when he wakes up. I figure having another Dalish around will help him adjust."

"That's smart. See, this is why you should stay in charge."

"Sigrun, you do realize that if you hadn't let Zimri help you, they would have found some other way to accomplish their goal, right?" I cross my legs under me, a position she mimics before resting her chin in her hands.

"I know, I know, I just... feel stupid and gullible right now," she sighs.

"Sigrun, lemme tell you something. If I'd been here; if there'd been no wedding invitation, or if I hadn't wound up staying all that extra time, and Zimri had asked me if there was some way he could make himself useful, I would have accepted his help."

She cocks her head in confusion. "Really? I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't. But that's the thing, I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. If he'd offered to help, I would've taken it as him trying to do better, get along with everyone, and let him help." I let out a wry laugh. "'Course, then I probably would have killed him for doing what he did. Badly as I want to right now, I'm managing to keep a level enough head to let Weisshaupt deal with him."

"I did hear you beat him pretty bad, anyway," Sigrun points out.

I laugh. "That I did. And the only reason I _didn't_ beat him to death is 'cause Nate talked some sense in to me."

She giggles. "Don't you just _hate_ it when he's right all the time?"

"Heh, yes. It's infuriating," I agree. "Hope Vi knows what she's walking into if their relationship actually goes somewhere..."

"If she doesn't, she'll find out fast enough," Sigrun laughs.

"Very true."

The dwarf shoots me a grin. "Thanks, Commander."

I play innocent. "For what?"

She rolls her eyes and playfully socks me in the arm. "You know for what. You're really good at giving pep talks and making people feel better about themselves."

"Got lotsa practice with Jowan," I remind her.

"Heh, I guess you would've, with the stories you tell from when you two first met."

"It's easy to be hard on yourself when you mess up, Sig. And a stern self-remonstrance to never make a particular serious mistake again is one thing. Jowan's problem when we first met was that he either wouldn't or couldn't stop beating himself up for the mistakes he'd made. So I had plenty of opportunities to set him straight in that regard. Now I'm quite skilled at giving pep talks. And, ironically enough, so is he. Guess some of what I said actually stuck."

"I'd have to agree with you on that. And I think I'm sufficiently cheered up, Commander. You can go worry about more important things than rescuing me from the gloomies."

"Making sure my friends aren't being too hard on themselves is very important," I correct her. "But if you're feeling better now, I s'ppose can leave you alone," I tease.

I get another eyeroll for that. "Very funny. Go... get back to your job," she mutters, but she's smiling now, which makes me feel better.

**oOo**

It's a true lesson in patience for me that Mahariel takes another two full days to wake up. There's only so much for me to do to distract myself. The letter about Zimri is far easier to compose than I thought it would be, though I did talk Jowan into writing it down for me, since he has _much_ better handwriting than I do. He can't resist teasing me about that just a little, of course, and I protest that it all comes down to background. I grew up in an alienage and didn't even learn to read and write until I was ten-and then only just enough to get by-while he grew up in the Circle, having copious amount of writing to do for his homework every day of his life for over a decade. That shuts him up.

But it's as I finish unpacking that Sigrun comes to pass along a message from Velanna that the elven warrior is finally waking up. "She says he's still a little groggy, but you could talk to him if you want, he's awake enough for a conversation."

"Thanks, Sig. I'll be right there." I glance at my mostly-empty backpack and decide to make the rest wait. I've been waiting too long for a chance to talk to Mahariel.

As I leave my room and head down down the hall to _his_, I tug on the lower edge of my tunic to straighten it out. The more I can look like I belong in charge, the better. I guess.

Velanna meets me in the hallway outside Mahariel's room, looking nervous. "Commander, I just wanted to caution you: you were right, he is _very_ Dalish."

"Worse than you when we first met?" I quirk an eyebrow when she hesitates. Now, even if she says no, I'm going to assume it's a close contest.

"Not quite, but almost," she finally admits.

"Good to know," I sigh., pinching the bridge of my nose as a headache blooms to life. I'm already not looking forward to this. But maybe it won't be so bad, and even if it is, I have to do it. So I stride into the room, offering a welcoming-and mostly sincere-smile to the elf in the bed.

He replies with a civil nod. "You must be the commander Velanna mentioned."

I nod. "I am. Rahna Tabris, Commander of the Grey, at your service. And what's your name?"

"Jerin." He shifts position and winces. "Jerin Mahariel. Hunter and warrior of the Alerion clan."

"Mmm... never had contact with that clan."

"Which one _did_ you have contact with, then?" he asks, sounding suspicious.

I shrug. "Never learned the clan name, but the Keeper was Zathrian."

Something dark flickers in Jerin's eyes. "_You're _the one who convinced him to help shems?"

_Here we go..._ "Yes. The suffering he was forcing on them was wrong. He'd been so poisoned by hatred he couldn't see that anymore. His curse needed to end."

He snorts. "Of course _you'd_ feel that way, you're practically one of them, flat-ear."

"Jerin, if you're trying to insult me, you'll have to work much harder than _that._ I've had names flung at me that would make a sailor blush," I inform him wryly. "And any suffering that's forced upon people for a crime they _didn't commit _is _wrong_. I don't care what race they are."

He snorts, rubbing at the bandages wrapped around his bicep as if trying to banish an itch without really scratching. "Your misguided views are _your_ problem, _Commander_, not mine."

Part of me bristles, but I force a thin smile. "Oh, but they'll have to be yours, too."

He scowls and his hand stills. "What d' you mean?"

"In order to save you from the taint, we had to put you through the Joining ritual, which I will explain in more detail later, if you wish. But the fact you survived means that-aside from having a remarkable will to live-you are now a Grey Warden. Which means you're going to have to start caring about people other than just the Dalish. And you'll be fighting alongside dwarves and _flat-ears_ like me, as well as shems. But mostly shems."

Jerin swears in elvish and glowers at me. "Why didn't you just let me die, then?"

"Because I believe in second chances, no matter how much of an arse the person in question might be," I retort, crossing my arms. "Velanna's learned to at least tolerate the humans, so it's not impossible."

More muttered elvish. "And I don't have a choice about this, do I?"

"You can choose to give the human Wardens a chance before you write them all off as savage, heartless barbarians who only deserve death. I'm not asking you to become best friends with any of them, just... get along. For now, you have a few days by yourself while you rest up, get back your strength. Then I'm gonna want to see what you can do, how good you are."

"Accordin' to my Keeper, I'm one of the best warriors our clan has had in years," he informs me.

"I don't doubt that, and Velanna told me as much. I just want to see where you fit compared to the rest of my Wardens," I reply. "Everyone under my command has shown me how well they can fight. I'm not cutting you any slack in that regard simply because you became a Warden in a time with no surface darkspawn activity."

"Fine," he mutters sourly. "As you say, _Commander_."

I turn to leave, about fed up with his attitude, but then remember what else I'd wanted to ask him. "What I really wanna know, Jerin, is how you wound up with the taint in the first place."

He eyes me darkly. "I don't see how it's relevant. I got it, you cured me, and between owin' you my life and your damned Grey Warden rules, I'm stuck here."

I have a sharp retort on the tip of my tongue when I really_ look _at him. The darkness in his eyes isn't so much animosity toward me as it is remembered pain. He doesn't want to talk about it because it hurts, not because he's _trying_ to be a pain in the arse. Since I know exactly what that kind of pain feels like, I drop it with a shrug. "Just wanted to learn a bit more about you. If you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine."

Surprise replaces the dark belligerence of moments ago. "I- Thank you."

"Rest up. Holler if you need anything, but I think Velanna's planning to hover. Maybe even camp out on the floor. So she should be able to help with whatever you might need."

He nods. "I'll do that."

I give a curt nod of farewell and leave the room, passing Velanna in the hallway as I emerge. "He _is_ very Dalish. Still, so long as he doesn't try to kill any of us, I think he'll do alright."

She raises an eyebrow. "Really? I'm sorry, Commander, with the trouble we had at first, I'm just a little surprised."

I chuckle. "I said he'd do _alright_. Not that everything would be sunshine and rainbows. We're going to butt heads, he and I, much like I did with you at first. But tell me; are humans _so_ bad?"

"Anders is a child cleverly disguised as an adult, and Nathaniel..." she makes a noise very much like a growl.

"You're still thinking about the ears comment, aren't you?" I ask, trying not to laugh. She blushes, which is answer enough. "Y'know, I'm pretty sure if he knew how much that comment bothered you, he'd apologize."

She doesn't look like she quite believes me. "But it would be foolish to bring up after so much time has passed, surely. That was months ago. He probably doesn't even remember saying it."

I shrug. "Up to you. I'll be in my room if anyone comes looking for me."

Velanna nods as she ducks into Jerin's room. "Alright."

"You make sure he behaves himself, alright?"

I think I hear her laugh as I walk away, but I can't be sure.

**oOo**

I get the rest of my unpacking done without interruption, humming softly to myself. The only snag comes when I've finished and try to push closed the drawer I just finished filling. It sticks. I mutter under my breath as I try to make it cooperate. _C'mon, it's full but not __**that**__ full..._ Finally, it surrenders to a forceful, two-handed shove and slides closed with a _thump_ that rattles the knick-knacks atop the dresser. A couple are close enough to the edge that they fall off, and I roll my eyes at my habit of organized chaos as I bend over to pick them up.

Every trace of wry, self-deprecating amusement vanishes, however, when my fingers close around the smaller of the two objects and I realize what it is.

**oOo**

_ "I just wanted to give you this." He tosses me a small box, tied shut with a red ribbon._

_ My eyebrow goes even higher as I tug at the ribbon. "What's this for?"_

_ He shrugs and grins. "Do I need a reason? You're always giving us things for no reason. Maybe I just think someone needs to return the favor."_

_ "Point," I concede, dropping the ribbon to open the box. Pounce darts from behind his master and snatches it out of midair, tumbling end over end wrapped in his new toy. I chuckle as I flip open the lid. "Anders..."_

_ "What, don't like them?" He frowns._

_ "No, I do, it's just..." I look back up at him. "Earrings?"_

_ "Yeeesss," The mage draws the word out like he doesn't see what the problem could possibly be._

_ "I don't have pierced ears," I point out, quirking the eyebrow at him again._

_ He grins. "We'll just have to fix that, then, won't we, love?"_

**oOo**

It's a half hour later when Sigrun finds me out on the wall, sitting atop the parapet and staring in the general direction of the city without really looking at anything in particular, still turning the small box over and over in my hands.

"You alright, Commander?" she asks, brushing hair out of her eyes as the wind picks up.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah." I sniffle, though whether due to the windchill or missing Anders, I'm not entirely sure, and spin around to hop down next to her. "Just thinking..."

"'Bout what?"

I knew she'd bite; she's almost as curious as I am. I smirk at the dwarf as I flip open the box to show her the contents. "You wouldn't happen to know how to pierce ears, would you?"

_A/N: Lots of Sigrun love this chapter, which is okay with me, since she's one of my favorites. ^^ And about Jerin: yes, he was rather strongly anti-shem in my game. Not to the point of gleefully murdering a whole slew of innocent bystanders, but neither was he horribly motivated to help humans solve their problems. By the end, he did trust Alistair and Morrigan to a point, and liked to listen to Leliana's stories(he loves stories, so he tolerated listening to a human tell them XD), but he didn't romance anyone. He's straight(so no Zevran), and stayed wary enough of humans I couldn't see him falling in love with one(so no anybody else). So he became my first-probably only- *foreveralone* playthrough, but we'll see if that stays true. *evil plotty grin*_


	5. Full of Surprises

5. Full of Surprises

It's going to take at least a month to hear back from Weisshaupt. I know this for a fact. Even if the rider I sent with my letter goes fast enough to nearly kill her horse every day-which I hope she doesn't do-it's a two week ride at the very least each way. With Zimri confined to his quarters except for meals until I learn what to do with him, that means my only real "problems" are helping Jerin acclimate to his new life, a small mountain of paperwork, and hoping my newly pierced ears don't get infected. The small gold hoops seem even more apropos now that their giver has vanished into thin air.

Everything I've tried to track down Anders has hit a wall. He's just _gone_. It's as if he doesn't want me to find him, which if true worries me more than I'll ever admit.

I'm muddling my way through a set of deadly dull reports from Jader when salvation comes in the form of a knock on the door. "Maker bless you, whoever it is," I mutter under my breath, dropping the reports on my bed as I call out," You can come in."

The door opens, and Nathaniel chuckles at the sight of me cross-legged on my bed with my paperwork spread out in front of me. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that _this_ is how you do paperwork."

I wrinkle my nose at him. "This is more comfortable than my desk. What's up, Nate?"

"Now that you have things under control here, so to speak, would it be alright for me to go to Amaranthine?"

"Oh, sure," I nod. "I think we can manage without you for a little while."

"Define _a little while_," he requests, leaning back against the doorframe.

I shrug. "Few weeks, a month, something like that. Things are calm to the point of boring around here right now. I'm pretty sure I'll live if you wanna go visit your sister."

Nathaniel chuckles at my teasing. "You sure you can manage to refrain from beating Zimri senseless?"

"It'll be a challenge, but so long as he stays in his room, I think I can do it," I snark back, which earns me a laugh. "Do me one favor though: see if Sig wants to go with you, and take her if she does? She's been stuck here for months, I think she deserves to be the one gettin' to go somewhere. Tell her you need someone to watch your back or somethin'."

He gives me a searching look. "There's more to this than you're saying, Commander."

"Nope," I contradict, shaking my head. "Just don't want you traveling alone. It's been long enough, there may be bandits along the roads again now."

Nathaniel sighs. "Very well." I can see in his eyes, he know I'm still leaving something out, but trusts me enough to be willing to leave it alone.

I'm not going to enlighten him. There's a reason Sigrun told me of her plans to leave in private; I figure if she wants the others to know, she'll tell them. "Have a good trip."

"That's the plan," the archer returns with a small, sly smile. It leaves me wondering what, exactly, he has planned for this trip. But he's out of the room and down the hall before I can question him. I have a feeling it involves a certain blonde friend of Delilah's, but I shall withhold comment until he gets back and I can know for sure.

**oOo**

Sigrun is more than willing to go with Nathaniel. In fact, she's almost eager, which makes me wonder exactly how much being in charge wore on her. And the two of them get some unexpected last minute company. Cor asks permission to go check on his mother, who lives in the city. It's a request I grant, after conferring with Varel. Cor is under his authority more than mine, after all.

To give Sigrun something to do while the men are visiting with family members, I ask her to check around, see if anyone in the city saw Anders. While I don't like making her dwell on the fallout of trusting the wrong person, it'll give her something to do. Plus, if she's as like me as I think she is, doing something to help right the wrong she inadvertently allowed will help her start forgiving herself.

I absently finger one earring as I watch the three figures growing smaller on the road.

"Miss them already?" Jowan teases, leaning against the parapet next to me.

I roll my eyes. "Sigrun's the one who helps me keep the Gloomy Guses from being _too_ gloomy. 'Course I'll miss her. And Nate's a good friend. But I still have you around to harass, so I'll survive."

He sighs and elbows me in the ribs. "Very funny."

"I though it was," I retort airily, grinning at him.

"So, what're you going to do with yourself for the rest of the day?" Jowan asks.

"Well, first I'm gonna check on Fade and Honey, because they were both acting weird and restless last night, and I promised Nate I'd make sure Honey's okay."

"Oh, so you don't care s'much about Fade?" he teases.

"I am going to push you off this wall, ser mage," I laugh. "Of _course_ I care about Fade. But I think he was only antsy because Honey was. Nate was worried she might be sick or something. How 'bout you? How're you plannin' to spend all this free time we have ahead of us?"

He shrugs. "Not sure. Prob'ly do a lot of reading. Pester you to make sure your new jewelry doesn't earn you an infection. Things like that."

"Ah, I see," I giggle. "Well, I should probably go makes rounds, check on Jerin and the dogs, make sure Zimri isn't planing a one-man revolt. Things like that."

"Sounds like a smart plan. Though maybe don't let Jerin know you lumped him in with the dogs. He might take it the wrong way," Jowan ribs.

I sock him in the arm and roll my eyes as I turn to leave. "You know what I _meant_."

He just laughs and rubs his arm as I descend the steps from the wall. First stop is will be the stables, to check on the mabari.

Fade doesn't tackle me like I was half expecting, a detail that brings a worried frown to my face. Instead, my mabari is curled up next to a very lethargic-looking Honey. Both dogs lift their heads as I approach, Fade's ears prick up, and I can see their tails wagging. But neither gets up.

"You two okay?" I ask, crouching next to Honey and ruffling her ears.

She gives me a soulful look and Fade lets out a fairly happy sounding bark of affirmation.

"Just tired, girl?" I run my hands down her sides and back, checking for any injuries that might have escaped notice earlier. She licks my arm enthusiastically. I can't find anything really wrong with her, but she does seem a little bit bloated. "Did we eat too much at dinner last night, darlin'?" I croon. Aside from the lethargy she seems fine to me. I figure she just ate too much last night and her tummy is expressing its displeasure. Still, I'm no expert on mabari-especially female mabari-so maybe I can track down someone who _is_ and get a more informed opinion.

_Varel would probably know,_ my mind prompts. _That man knows everyone in the arling._

I give Fade a quick scratch under the chin before straightening to go look for my seneschal.

**oOo**

Varel's in his office, hard at work writing up the duty roster for the next few weeks-and looking just a tad frustrated with his task.

"In the mood for a brief respite?" I ask, after rapping my knuckles against the doorframe.

"Maker, yes," he sighs in relief. "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"Would you happen to know someone knowledgable about mabari? Honey's a bit under the weather. I think it's just an upset stomach, but a second opinion from someone who knows them better couldn't hurt."

Varel stares into space for a moment, fingers steepled as he thinks. "As it happens, I do. And she's actually stationed here. You'll be wanting Lucy. Her father was the kennel master, back when there were actually mabari here, and he taught her everything he knew. She's kept it fresh in her head somehow through all these years. You can probably find her in the barracks, Commander. Her patrols aren't until later."

"Thank you, Varel. I'll let you get back to what you were doing."

He lets out a small groan. "If you must."

I chuckle. "Hey, the fewer distractions, the sooner you finish."

"I suppose you're right, Commander," he admits reluctantly.

"'Course I am," I tease. "Now, I need to see a lady about a dog."

It's Varel's turn to chuckle. "Farewell."

I wave over my shoulder as I leave to track down this Lucy he mentioned.

She's very easy to find in the end: she's arm-wrestling another soldier as I walk into the barracks, and there are _plenty _of people hollering her name. I grin and lean against the wall to watch. Her opponent wins, but does she ever make him work for it. I wait until the crowd of people giving her consolatory slaps on the back has dissapated somewhat before I approach.

"Lucy?"

I ddon't get out any more than her name before the woman is snapping to attention and offering a flawless salute. "Yes, ser?"

From her behavior to her bearing, this woman has _life-long soldier_ written all over her. Her thick black hair is pulled back in twin braided buns at the nape of her neck, only a couple small wisps escaping to rest against her forehead as a result of her arm-wrestling. Her clothes are neat, plain and no-nonsense; shirt and trousers paired with well-shined dark brown boots, and her posture is straight as a board.

I wave off the salute. "At ease. You technically report to Seneschal Varel, not me. I understand you know a lot about mabari?"

Lucy nods, seeming to relax only slightly at my casual tone. "That I do, ser. What d'you need?"

"My friend's mabari is acting strangely, and I want to make sure there's nothing seriously wrong with her," I explain.

She nods again. "Of course. My patrols aren't for another few hours, so I can take a look now if you'd like."

I smile gratefully. "I would appreciate that." _Last thing I need is to have to explain to Nate that Honey got sick and died while I'm keeping an eye on her for him..._

"So, where is she?"

"Out in the stables. They've decided they like it more out there than in here."

She chuckles. "I see. Well, lead on, ser."

I sigh as I do so, wondering what the chances are of getting her to stop with the 'ser'. Probably not good.

**oOo**

Honey looks happy to see me again so soon, but slightly more wary of my company.

"Hey, girl," Lucy croons, kneeling next to her. "I hear something's bothering you." She extends one hand for Honey to sniff, and the dog does so, cautiously.

Fade's still curled up next to her, his head resting protectively on Honey's back, keeping an eye on Lucy.

"It's okay, boy," I promise, scratching between his ears. "She's here to help."

He seems to relax a little at that.

Meanwhile, having gained Honey's trust, Lucy's checking her over; looking in her eyes, checking her gums, running her hands down the dog's flanks. She chuckles as she finishes her examination. "Commander, would I be correct in assuming that these two are... _fond_ of each other?"

I give a wry laugh and rough Fade's ears. "Fond might actually be an understatement."

"And they spend a lot of time together?"

I nod. "Much as they can."

She smiles, and I get the feeling I just confirmed something for her. "There's nothing wrong with your friend's dog, ser. She's just... in a family way, you might say."

_That_ takes a minute to properly sink in. "Are you tellin' me Honey's _**pregnant**_?!"

Both dogs prick up their ears at my tone, and Lucy chuckles. "These things do happen, Commander."

"I know, but..." The protest trails off weakly into a helpless chuckle of my own. "So... when're the little ones gonna make an appearance?"

"Anywhere from one to three weeks, ser," she replies. "Most dogs don't start to show until they're getting close. But I dunno _how _close, if you follow me."

"I think so..." I nod. "And her being lethargic and kinda just _bleh_ is okay?"

"Oh, yes, that's normal. Like morning sickness."

"Ah. Well, thank you for your help. I won't take up any more of your time, Lucy."

"Not a problem, ser." She salutes again before heading back to the barracks.

I look down at the two mabari, who are both watching me, and laugh. "So, you two are going to be parents..." I take a deep breath, huffing it out and up at the wisps of hair brushing my forehead. "Now I just need to decide whether I write and tell Nate, or just let this be a surprise for when he gets back."

Honey yips enthusiastically.

"You like the idea of surprising him?" I raise an eyebrow at the dog. Her tail starts wagging at double-speed. "Well, then, boy, will I ever have news for him when he returns. You rest up and take care of your babies, alright?"

She lets out a small whine and rests her head between her front paws.

"I know, but it's only a few more weeks at most." I give her a comforting scratch between the ears before leaving. I need to check in on Jerin, see how he's doing and how Velanna's holding up. And then I think I might just go in the practice yard and lay in grass a while.

After all, it's been a full morning.

_A/N: *cough* Surprise! xD There will soon be cute little mabari puppies running around causing mischief. And I already am plotting what they're going to look like and who they'll imprint on. :3 This will be fun._


	6. Just One Night

6. Just One Night

I've had the field to myself long enough to be drifting off when I hear the rustle of boots through the grass. I pry my good eye open to see who it is and grin.

"Did you get lonely already?" I tease as Jowan reaches my spot in the sun and sits down next to me.

"Nah. It's a nice day out and I thought it was a shame you were enjoying it alone," he shoots back, twisting one of the long blades of grass around his finger

"I see, " I chuckle, letting my eye slide closed. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both simply listening to the wind, and each other's breathing, before Jowan speaks again.

"Was everything okay when you made your rounds?" he asks. "You just only seem t' need to be alone when you have a lot to think about or something's wrong."

"No, everything was fine," I promise. "It's just... Honey's pregnant, and I find the idea of mabari puppies to be slightly overwhelming."

"Wait, Honey's _pregnant_? When did that happen?" he demands, sounding so confused I can't resist opening my eyes to catch his expression. He's staring at me like he half thinks I'm just pulling his leg.

"When we were in Denerim, silly," I laugh, rolling on to my stomach and propping my chin on my hands. "You knew she and Fade were sweet on each other. Are you _really _surprised something came of it?"

He rolls his eyes at my teasing and nudges one of my elbows with his foot until he dislodges it and I'm forced to quickly shift my weight to avoid planting my face in the dirt.

"Jowan!" I shriek as I compensate, swinging at him weakly with the arm he'd nudged, now that it's free. I miss, of course. My angle's all wrong, and I can't get good momentum when I'm laughing so hard. So I scramble up to my knees and sock him in the arm, aiming for the spot right about the elbow that makes your arm go all tingly and numb.

Jowan, of course, yelps in protest when my fist makes contact. "Maker, Rahna, seriously?!"

I laugh and settle back, sitting on my feet and smirking triumphantly as he rubs his arm and works his fingers. "My revenge is complete."

He sighs and smiles ruefully. "I s'ppose I was sort of asking for that..."

"Yep."

_This_ sigh is accompanied by an eyeroll. "I'm definitely including lightning next time I poke you."

"Oh, I can make you regret that," I warn, giggling as I pick grass out of my hair and shift so the two of us are sitting back to back. Part of me _immediately_ wants to tease him that I can still feel his spine and how the _blazes_ has he stayed so skinny? but something stops me. Whether the knowledge such a comment could possibly lead to reasons for him to brood, or simply enjoying the companionable silence, the wiser part of my brain stops the words from leaving my lips.

"D'you remember what today is?" Jowan asks lazily, his tone making me think this is more idle chatter than serious conversation.

"Mmm... can't say I do," I admit.

"Today's a year we've known each other," he reminds me with a chuckle.

"Ah. Maker, has it really been_ just _a year? Feels like I've known you forever," I laugh. _On top of that, this past year's been so damned crazy..._

Jowan's silent for a moment before replying. "I _think_ that was a compliment, but I'm not entirely sure..."

I lean my head back against his shoulder. "It most definitely was," I promise. "You... you've been there as a listening ear through some _really_ hard times for me, and I truly appreciate having you as a friend."

I feel his shoulders lift in a shrug. "It's only fair, with everything you've done for me, Rahna."

I chuckle softly, tugging free a blade of grass and winding it around my finger absently. "Let's just say we've been good for each other and leave it at that?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agrees, and I can hear the smile in his voice. We let the silence return, and the next interruption doesn't come from either of us.

"Oy, Commander!" one of the soldiers on the wall hails from behind me.

Jowan chuckles. "I think you're wanted, m'lady."

I jab him in the ribs with my elbow before scrambling to my feet and turning to face the soldier who waits for my attention. "What is it?"

"There's people approachin' on the road," he calls down. "Looks like templars. And they're headin' _here_."

"Whaddya mean?"

"It don't look like they intend to pass us by," he clarifies.

I instinctively glance at Jowan. "Seems we're about to have some visitors."

"Oh, _joy,_" he mutters.

"As if we needed more excitement around here, yeah?"

"Exactly." He pushes himself to his feet as well and looks up at the soldier. "Which way are they coming?"

"From Denerim, ser. Why?"

Jowan shakes his head and brushes hair out of his eyes. "No reason." But he murmurs under his breath, "Less chance they'll know who I am..."

I feel my breath catch as I realize that could be a very real problem should we ever get "guests" from Kinloch Hold; the templars there knew Jowan. All we did to fake his death will be useless if some templar who knows what he looks like comes here. "Oh, Maker forbid..." I mutter.

The mage squeezes my hand reassuringly. "They're from Denerim, Rahna. The chances of that are _very_ low."

"Well, it's _your_ neck on the line," I remind him as I dust off my pants to be more presentable before I go to meet our new arrivals.

"Rahna." Jowan tugs me back and picks a couple pieces of grass that I'd missed out of my hair. "There. Now you're good."

"You sure?" I tease, running my hands lightly over my hair to check for any more strays.

"Yep. You look fine. Go." He shooes me in the direction of the gate.

I stick my tongue out at him playfully before I start moving. "Who made you boss?"

"No one in particular," he replies. "But sometimes you need someone to keep you on track."

That point I have to concede. "I _am_ rather easily distracted..."

"I know," Jowan chuckles as he follows me to the gate. Whether this is out of curiosity or because he think I might need moral support, I'm not entirely sure. Whichever it is, I"m glad he does. I feel like I can handle anything with him watching my back.

**oOo**

The templars reach the Vigil only a few minutes later. Their leader, a blond who looks to be in his late twenties, bows courteously when he learns I'm the garrison's commander, as well as the de facto arlessa.

"Greetings, my lady," he smiles warmly. "I am Ser Toby."

"Well met," I nod, returning his smile. "What can we do for you, Ser Toby?"

"We're on our way to Amaranthine. Apparently the Revered Mother was finally able to take stock of the losses she suffered during your... darkspawn problems up here, and she sent for some more templars."

"And you would be them?" I raise an eyebrow at the small group. There's only eight of them; six men and two women, counting Ser Toby.

He shrugs. "I guess you don't have as many apostates and maleficarum up this way as other parts of the country. M'lady."

"That must be it," I reply, fighting the urge to smirk at Jowan "But the chantry is in the city, ser. What can we do for you _here_?"

He pauses, as if trying to figure how best to word a request. "Sleeping on the ground gets rather tiresome, my lady. We were wondering if you might be willing to put us up here for the night? Just one night, before we press on for the city."

I bite my lip and twirl a pigtail as I deliberate. I currently have two apostates here-Wardens though they may be-and a former templar locked in his room. This would _not_ be when I would choose to have a cadre of templars as houseguests. But there's no good reason to turn them away. We have plenty of vacant rooms, it's not _that_ many extra mouths to feed for Cook, and it's just one night. How much can go wrong in one night?

"Of course you can stay here," I finally reply.

"Are you certain?" Ser Toby hesitates. "That was a rather long pause. We don't want to be an inconvenience..."

"No, no, it's fine," I assure him. "I'm just not sure what state our guest rooms are in right now."

He chuckles. "So long as they have _beds_, we won't care."

And I can sense a general air of relief about the templars that lends credence to his words. "Well, come on in. You can get settled, get out of your armor, and I'll talk to the cook about makin' things go a bit farther at dinner."

Ser Toby grins. "Thank you, my lady."

It's as the templars file past us and into the keep that I feel Jowan tense behind me. _Oh, no. Why do I get the feeling something is about to get complicated?_ I give the templars directions to the main hall and promise to be in shortly before I pull the mage aside. "What's wrong? No, let me rephrase that: Which one did you recognize?" I demand.

Jowan sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "The... the man with the brown hair and the ponytail. If memory serves after all these years, he's the templar who brought me to the Circle after my father left me at the chantry. Ser... Jared, I think?" He leans his head back against the wall. "He's not going to know me on sight; I was all of _five_ then, but he'd know my name."

"If he has a good memory," I chip in.

He shrugs. "Rahna, in case you hadn't noticed, mine is not the most common name in the world. I think he'd remember."

"What made _you_ remember _him_? Was he excessively mean?" I ask. That's been the default leaning of most templars I've encountered.

But Jowan shakes his head. "Quite the opposite, actually. Nicest templar I've ever met. But I have no idea what he's like now. It's been almost twenty years," he reminds me. "He was prob'ly a new recruit then. But a twenty-year veteran? Plenty of time to get jaded?"

"Point taken," I nod. "So what're you gonna do? Hide?"

He shrugs. "If it's only one night... I think I could lie low that long without arousing suspicion."

"If that's really what you you wanna do..." I sigh. "But who's gonna help me stay calm if one of them turns out to be anti-mage and vocal about it?"

"I nominate Varel," Jowan replies with a wry smile as he roughs my hair. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to disappear."

"Heh. You do that, then. I need to see to our guests anyway."

"Good luck," I hear him mutter as I head for the main hall.

**oOo**

The templars are waiting for me, standing in their less formal 'at ease' stance, except for Ser Toby, who's examining the various tapestries that hang in some of the alcoves around the room.

"Sorry about that," I apologize as I enter the room. "There was a matter of some small urgency I needed to deal with. But I can show you to those guest rooms now."

"Thank you, my lady," Ser Toby turns from the tapestry depicting Andraste's execution and bows.

"Could I get introductions?" I ask casually as the follow me down the hall.

"Oh, certainly. My apologies for the oversight." Ser Toby points at each of his men as he offers their names. "Liam, James, Tristan, Jared, Sylva, Ingrid, and Cameron."

They all nod in turn as they hear their names, murmuring respectfully, "Commander" or "m'lady".

I do have to admit, this is the most well-behaved group of templars I've seen in my life. And a refreshing contrast to Zimri, who was all bigotry and condescension from the moment he entered the Vigil.

We have just enough habitable guest rooms for them to each have their own, which Sylva, a freckled blonde with a smile almost as warm as their leader's, assures me is luxury enough. No matter how sparse the furnishings may be. After seeing them all settled in, I headd for the kitchens.

"Commander," the cook nods as I enter. "What can I do for ya?"

"We have eight unexpected guests for dinner," I inform her apologetically. "Any way of making dinner stretch a bit further?"

"I'll see what I can do," she sighs, flicking loose hairs back toward her bun. "It ain't gonna be a feast, if you follow."

"That's perfectly alright," I assure her. "We appreciate your cooking, whether it turns out plain or fancy."

She smiles. "Thank ya for that, Commander. I'll get right on things. Fortunately, t'night was just gonna be stew, so I'll just have m'girls add a bit to it. Millie, Clare, you catch all that?"

"Yes'm," her assistants nod, scurrying for the pantry to collect the extra ingredients.

"Thank you," I smile at Cook.

"Just doin' m' job, Commander," she demurs. "So's you can do yours."

"Again, thank you," I chuckle as I turn to leave the kitchen.

_Pregnant mabari, templars for dinner guests... Maker, are there any other surprises coming my way?_ I demand mentally, eyes turning toward the ceiling.

I'm not entirely sure I want an answer.

_A/N: Poor Rahna. Even when things are supposed to be calm, Life finds ways to stay exciting. XD But hey, she's the one who complains when it gets boring, so she's practically asking for things like this. _


	7. Laying Low

7. Laying Low

The templars prove to be much better guests than I was expecting, though I'm not sure if said expectations were more due to Zimri's behavior or Alistair's joking comments regarding templar table manners. Either way, I'm pleasantly surprised by our guests, which Ingrid is quick to catch.

"You look like you expected us to be absolute _savages,_ Commander," the redhead comments.

"I... may have been led to believe that templars had atrocious table manners," I admit sheepishly. "Somewhere along the lines of _raised by dogs_."

She laughs, glancing at her fellows, who have mingled among the guardsmen. "Well, in our barracks, some do tend to lean a bit more in that direction. James and Cam certainly do. I... _can,_ if I'm hungry enough. But Toby... that man has the most impeccable manners I've ever seen. _Always._ If I didn't know he was Chantry-raised from birth, I'd swear he had nobility in his veins."

I raise an eyebrow. "Chantry-raised, hm?" Part of me can't help but wonder if he knew Alistair. I instantly squash the notion; just because Toby was raised in the Chantry doesn't mean he ever even met Alistair. There are dozens of chantries in Ferelden alone.

Ingrid nods. "Story goes his mother was a Sister-or at least an initiate-and his father was a mage. He's never confirmed or disputed it. Sure seems to have a sense of when there's magic near. Helps a lot with hunting down apostates."

"Mmm. Well, a couple of my Wardens are mages, so I hope his ability to sense magic isn't of the variety to bother him when it's near."

She shakes her head. "I don't believe so. You have mages here?"

"Grey Wardens. Both people I trust implicitly and have for a while now. Extended friendship has done nothing but increase my confidence in their ability and character." I can't help but think, _Velanna especially, you have to get past that wall __**first**__..._

"You sound as if you're forced to defend them a lot," she comments.

"I am. A lot of people in the arling, both templar and civilian, seem to think that just because they're mages, they can't be trusted. That's not always the case."

"You're a very trusting person, Commander."

"It's worked for me so far," I shrug, not entirely liking the wary note in her voice. "And I don't trust _everyone. _I just get gut feelings about people sometimes, and there have only been a couple times that feeling was wrong."

"I see." Ingrid aimlessly plays with the remaining stew in her bowl. "Commander, I must admit, I've spent the past ten years guarding and occasionally tracking mages, and I find it a good bit harder to trust them than you seem to."

"That's fine. Our experiences in life shape our view of people. Mine with mages just happen to have been a lot better than those a templar might have. You're around them more, so naturally you'll see the damage they can cause when things... go wrong."

"That's... very understanding of you."

"I try," I smile at her. "My leadership style often depends on being able to sweet-talk my way out of disagreements, especially if the potential for escalation to the point of blows is high."

"You're good at talking yourself out of corners, in other words," she replies.

"Yes, exactly. A skill honed by necessity while growing up," I chuckle

"Ah, I see." Ingrid nods.

I finish my stew-even stretched slightly to account for the extra mouths, it's still good-and push back from the table. "I've enjoyed talking to you, Ser Ingrid. But unfortunately, duty calls."

"A commander's work is never done, right?" she smiles. "I understand."

"Thank you." I nod respectfully to her as I leave, heading toward the kitchens. I need to make a quick stop there before seeing to these duties, which-despite what Ser Ingrid might think-are not _all_ of a 'Commander' variety. Some are more of the 'good friend' variety. Jowan can hide if he wants, but I know what being a Grey Warden does to your appetite. He's going to need food. And I don't him to be forced into sneaking down to the kitchens in the middle of the night. Cook's stew is _so_ much better hot.

That's what I tell the woman as I wheedle a Grey Warden-sized portion out of her with promises it's not for me. "My friend's not feelin' his best and I'm in the mood to spoil him a little." It's not _entirely_ a lie; Jowan tends to _way_ over-stress about things, which means he's not at his best. "Oh, and did Velanna and Jerin eat?" I know our new warrior is still on bedrest, healer's orders, so if he got food, Cook would know.

"Aye," she nods. "That sharp-tongued blonde came an' collected a helpin' for the both of 'em. If your friend hasn't eaten yet, he's the only one who ain't."

"Thanks." I take the generous-sized bowl she hands me, shifting my hands to get a good grip before I head for Jowan's room.

**oOo**

He's sitting in the window seat, thoroughly engrossed in whatever book he's reading, when I reach his room.

"Y'know, this 'laying low' thing usually works better if you actually close your door," I comment, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe.

Jowan starts and nearly drops his book. "Maker's breath!"

I bite back a laugh. "And you don't even have the excuse of a bad eye. Must be a really good book."

"It is," he replies with a grin, marking his page and setting it aside. "However, my stomach likes the idea of whatever's in that bowl a whole lot better right now."

I chuckle and kick the door closed behind me as I step into his room. "Figured you might." I hand it over and settle cross-legged on the unmade bed. "And the meal comes with company while you eat, so the bowl makes it back to the kitchen in a timely fashion and Cook won't want to have your hide."

He pauses and glances at me. "Maker, you do know me too well."

"I imagine the reverse is equally true," I chuckle, twirling a pigtail. "But I'll shut up and let you eat now."

"'Preciate it," Jowan mumbles around a mouthful of stew.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," I tease and he wrinkles his nose at me. I just laugh and ignore him, flopping back to stare up at the ceiling. I let my legs dangle over the edge of the bed, absently tapping my heels against the bedframe. "Hey, you hear from Miri at all?"

He nods, swallows. "The letter's on my desk."

I push off the bed, curiosity about the mage overcoming the lazy impulse to not move until I have to, and retrieve the letter. I let the silence return as I unfold the creased parchment, noticing with a small smile that Jowan's not the only one who doodles around the edges of his letters. His doodles are much better than Miri's though. I straddle the desk chair as I read, propping my elbows against the back of it.

It seems Miri's doing well; Gabriel got stationed in Kaiten with her, like he was hoping. The tunnels were successfully blocked off, and there was a dramatic decrease in darkspawn activity right around the time I killed the Mother.

"Well, life's sure bein' kind to _her_," I mumble.

"You say that as if it's being otherwise to you," Jowan comments in between bites.

I snort. "Anders is missing, Zimri's a headache and a royal arse, and I have a keep full of templars to keep away from my 'blood mage'." I make quotation marks with my fingers around the words, Anders and Zevran's comments about 'Once a blood mage, always a blood mage' ringing in my head. "Far from blissful."

"Well, for starters, you only have to worry about the templars 'til morning," Jowan points out. "And Zimri's going to be Weisshaupt's problem soon enough. Can't really say anything about Anders; I'm as stumped there as you are. Maybe Sigrun will turn something up in the city."

"I hope so," I sigh. "Even if it's just enough to know he's still alive, I'll feel... well, less murderous." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Maker, Jowan, I want to make this Commander of the Grey post somebody else's problem like you wouldn't believe." I fold my arms across the back of the chair, Miri's letter dangling from one hand.

"I don't think anyone would take it," he chuckles, scraping the last remnant of stew from the sides of his bowl. "You're doing such a_ marvelous _job." He grins at me impishly when I glare daggers in his direction.

"Oh, yes, I did a bang-up job," I mutter. "If we leave aside the slaughtered mob of peasants, not trusting my instincts about Zimri, and having the _worst_ head for political games _ever_."

Jowan's frowning in concern. "What was that first one?"

I tell him, in sparse detail, about the riot Bann Esmerelle and her conspirators used as cover. "Everyone always seems to think I can talk my way out of anything. But not that. The one time I had a truly altruistic motivation for hoping I could talk people down, and they _wouldn't listen_." I feel the bile rising in my throat at the memory and shove it down. "But it's hardly a topic for light conversation, and the less I have to think about it, the better."

He looks like he wants to say something more, or he knows I think about more than I let on, but he lets it go. He knows me well enough to know when to not push. Instead, he glances down at the now-empty bowl in his hands. "That was very good."

"I'll tell Cook you said so," I smile, silently thanking him for changing the subject. "She was worried it wouldn't be, what with havin' to stretch it." I stand, depositing Miri's letter back on the desk before I hold out a hand to take the bowl. "I'll let you get back to your book now."

He grins. "Thanks. And I suppose you need to get back to your commander-ly duties, anyway."

"Something like that," I chuckle. "Much as I'd rather stay an' talk to you."

Jowan laughs. "You mean you'd prefer my company to Oghren's, _Commander_?"

"I know, I know, something must be wrong with me," I riposte, whacking him lightly on the back of his head. "And what'd I tell you about titles, ser mage?"

That damned impish grin is back as he glances at me. "Gee, boss, I don't remember. Too many whacks on the head from a certain mildly insane elf."

I growl in frustration even as I fight a laugh. "I'll whack you for real if you don't knock it off."

Jowan nods in acquiescence, eyes still gleaming with mischief. "As you wish. You're just fun to tease with that."

I groan. "I taught you too well. I shoulda quit while I was astill ahead."

"Yeah, prob'ly should've," he agrees cheerily. "Now go away and let me read."

"As y'wish," I parrot back, dropping a mock cursty as best I can in trousers and boots. I make sure to pull the door closed behind me as I leave the room. I've only made it a few steps toward the kitchen before it occurs to me that I should check with Velanna and Jerin, see if they're finished with their bowls. So I do an about-face and head for Jerin's room.

**oOo**

The door opens promptly to my knock, Velanna seeming in better spirits than I've seen her in... well, maybe _ever_. I'm beginning to think recruiting Jerin may have saved _her_ almost as much as it saved _him_. It was hard enough for me being the only non-servant elf at the Ostagar encampment. I can only imagine what it would be like to come from a completely different culture and be the only one of "your kind" in the Wardens. Having a fellow Dalish in the ranks might make things more tolerable-for both of them.

"Yes, Commander?" the blonde greets me, the title seeming to carry more respect than usual somehow.

"I was just checking to see if you two had finished eating," I explain. "I'm heading down to the kitchen anyway and figured I could take you dishes as well, if you're finished with them."

Velanna nods. "Thank you. One moment, while I collect them." She leaves the door half-open as she moves to gather up the bowls, giving me a good view of Jerin. He's sitting up in bed, his former pallor having given way to a far healthier tan one would expect on a Dalish hunter.

"Evening, Jerin," I smile in greeting. "Long time, no see."

He chuckles almost in spite of himself. "Ev'nin', Commander. Still feel ya gotta check up on me, eh?"

I laugh and shake my head. "If I _did_, it would be more due to worry about the effects of the taint than not trusting you," I promise. "I try to give everyone a fair shot at earning my trust. When's your healer say you can get back on your feet?"

"Another day or so," Velanna interjects, handing me their bowls. "I don't want this stir-crazy lummox lying to you, Commander."

"I jist want t' show your shems how a proper warrior of th' Dales fights," Jerin protests.

"You try too early and you won't be showing them _anything_," she retorts.

"She makes an excellent point," I concede. "You should probably listen."

"I'm still in the bed, am I not?" he replies with a wry smile. "I know from experience it's never wise disobeyin' a healer. 'Specially one as right fiery as she is. The freedom's not worth the grief I'd get."

"Wise man," I chuckle, shifting the stack of bowls in my hands. "Can't wait to see those smarts in action. But I'll leave you two be now. Duty call and all that fun stuff."

"See you tomorrow, Commander," Velanna nods, Jerin echoing both the statement and the action.

I offer them both a casual wave of farewell before heading to the kitchen, silently hoping tomorrow is far less exciting than today.

_A/N: I now officially ship Velanna and Jerin. *cough* Dunno if that'll bleed into the story or not. Oh, yes, and the reason Jerin's in a slightly better mood this time is he was disoriented and grumpy and nauseous the first time he and Rahna talked. He is a jerk at times to anyone who's not Dalish, but maybe Velanna will mellow him a little, at least where Rahna's concerned. And I also think I may be starting to like Toby more than I thought I would. :I Drat. The templars were only supposed to show up this once. Some may be reappearing down the road now._


	8. Feeling Trapped

8. Feeling Trapped

To my vast relief, things quiet down after the templars leave. I know there will be some level of excitement when Nate and the others get back from the city, and activity when I hear back from Weisshaupt, but for now, things are relatively calm. Hopefully they'll stay that way for a while.

There's plenty to do, all the same-part of the reason for my wish. Most of the heavy lifting to clear away rubble and such was accomplished by the militia while I was in Denerim. Repairs are progressing, but slowly, as the the weather gets increasingly cooler. I'm sure down near the Wilds things are _freezing_ at night by now, and thank the Maker I was stationed up north. Cool as things might be getting, it's not _that_ bad-yet. It is, however, still chilly enough for me to quirk an eyebrow in surprise when I encounter Jerin up on the wall, clad only in a shirt, trousers, and his scuffed up boots.

"Aren't you chilly?" I demand as I join him.

He shrugs, a breeze tugging at his tied-back cornrow braids. "Not really. Th' Dalish are used to endurin' the elements, Commander. I'm fine." His gaze remains fixed on the horizon as he speaks, never once so much as flicking in my direction. "B'sides, it's not really _that _cold yet."

I huff enviously and gather my cloak around me as I tease, "Does your healer know you're up here?"

Jerin tosses me a brief, slightly sour, glance before returning his attention to whatever it is out there he finds so fascinating. "Why should she? She said I'm doin' well enough t' get out of bed an' do as I will. I'm no _da'len_, needin' t' check in with a nursemaid ev'ry hour or some nonsense like that."

"Sod, Jerin, all I _meant_ was it's awful chilly weather for you to be up here so soon after you nearly _died_. Wouldn't want you to survive the Taint only to catch your death of cold," I joke.

"Mm. Apologies, Commander," he mutters stiffly, absently picking at the bandages still swathed around his hand and wrist.

"Not a problem," I wave him off. "Maybe it's just as well she doesn't know. She might worry."

He chuckles, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as a fresh breeze springs up. "That she might."

I smirk and decide not to tell him about Velanna's reaction yesterday when I teased her that I was beginning to suspect Jerin was fine, she just didn't want to share. Her face went red and she spluttered denials, slipping in and out of elvish. Jerin was out of his room not even an hour later.

"Velanna means well, Jerin," I comment. "She's been alone a long time-mostly her own fault, between choices she's made and that prickly attitude-and to actually have another Dalish in the Wardens... I think she's going to worry about you more than she probably should."

Jerin frowns in confusion. "What about her clan? Surely she hasn't been alone for so long..."

I shake my head. "Like I said, she's made some choices and done things that meant she was left alone. But it's not my story to tell. Ask her if you're curious."

"I might do jist that," he mumbles, flicking a pebble over the parapet's edge.

"When d'you think you'll be up to demonstrating these skills as a warrior that were the whole reason Velanna had me recruit you?" I ask after a long moment's pause.

He shrugs. "I'd be willin' t' do it _now_, truth be told, but maybe give me a day or two more, t' be safe and keep Velanna happy."

I laugh. "Oh, yes. Because Velanna is one person you _do not_ want to see in a foul mood."

"I'm sure."

I shiver as the wind picks up again. "Well, I can't take this anymore. I _hate_ the cold, so I'm getting down from here. Don't freeze," I admonish him as I turn to go.

"As you order, Commander," I hear him mutter, but can't tell if he's joking or serious.

It's not until I make it to the bottom of the stairs that it dawns on me the direction he was staring is roughly where the Brecilian Forest lies. Jerin's feeling homesick. And trapped.

_I know the feeling_... I muse as I head for the stable and away from the steadily increasing wind.

**oOo**

Fade and Honey are both happy to see me, the latter noticably larger than the last time I checked on her.

"Good grief, it's only been a couple _days_, girl," I mutter. "Do I need to get Lucy in here again?"

She just _wuff_s and noses my hand, looking for pets or treats or both. I chuckle as I oblige, sitting with my back against the divider between stalls and petting both dogs at the same time.

Fade whimpers in rapture and crawls closer to lay his head in my lap.

I'm effectively trapped when he falls asleep a couple minutes later. A situation that only worsens when Honey mirrors his actions and pillows her head on my other leg.

"Oh, sod..." I mumble, leaning my head back with a muffled _thhunk_ as it meets wood. "Well, at least I didn't have anything urgent on my to-do list for today..."

Fade snuffles in his sleep, and I can't help but crack a smile.

"How come you never did this during the Blight, you cad?" I complain softly, my tone more teasing than accusatory. "I coulda used some 'forced breaks' with Alistair back then."

No reaction is forthcoming from my dog, so I assume he's well and truly asleep. Which means I"ll be spending at _least_ the next hour out here.

_Might as well make the most of it..._ I think to myself, hands still idly scratching the dogs' ears. And I do, mentally working on a plan for the next month or so as I wait for the mabari to wake up.

**oOo**

To my relief, it only winds up taking half of what I feared would be the minimum amount of time. Mostly because Varel comes looking for me and the stable doors have never really been _quiet._

The rough squeal of hinges starts the dogs back toward wakefulness, and the seneschal's gruff, "Commander?" only hastens them along.

By the time Varel finds me, both Fade and Honey are awake, eyeing each other sleepily across my lap. I can see the laughter sparking in Varel's eyes even as he's kind enough not to do it out loud.

"Help," I request simply, lips twisted into a wry smirk.

He chuckles. "Of course, Commander." At the sound of a new voice, both mabari swing their heads around to see who's here. Varel takes advantage of their distraction to offer me a hand up, hauling me to my feet when I accept.

I swear and dig my fingers in hard to keep my balance when I immediately almost tumble. "Sorry, my legs are asleep," I report sheepishly. "Mabari have heavy heads."

"Not a problem, Commander," he assures me with a smile, supporting me until the feeling returns to my legs.

I clear my throat in a vain attempt to reclaim my lost dignity. "Was there any particular reason you were looking for me, Seneschal?"

Varel shakes his head. "People noticed you were missing, and when your absence went longer than usual, I decided to see where you'd gotten off to."

"I see. Well, excellent timing," I chuckle. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he replies. "Glad I could be of service."

"How's your shoulder?" I ask as we exit the stable. I haven't checked with him about that since we got back, and while I figure a few months is plenty of time for it to heal, never hurts to be sure.

He shrugs. "Still a bit stiff. I think that may be permanent now. The ribs are right as rain, though."

"Well, that's something. I guess that's the price that comes with being all heroic, huh?" I tease.

Varel chuckles. "I suppose you could say that, Commander. You never get off scot-free. But you know that better than most, I suspect."

"Heh. I guess I do," I reply softly. _I certainly have more than my share of scars..._ "But that's not where I meant for my inquiry to go. Just wanted to make sure you were doin' alright."

"Well, thank you for that. I'm fine. Promise," he assures me.

"Good to know," I laugh, hands instinctively curling around the edges of my cloak as the wind picks up. "I think I'm going to spend the rest of the day curled up with a good book, and only come out here again if I absolutely have to."

"Sounds like a fine plan to me," Varel nods. The two of us part ways once we're inside the keep, my mind already busy trying to figure what type of book I'm in the mood for today.

**oOo**

In the end it doesn't really matter, because I get sidetracked the second I step into the library.

Velanna is sitting on one of the benches that are nestled along the walls between the sets of shelves, legs folded under her and posture straight enough I'd think it would be uncomfortable. Said posture is most likely to avoid upsetting the ink bottle balanced precariously on her knee as she writes and writes and _writes_, steadily filling the pages of the book in her lap with cramped but neat scrawl.

"Glad to see you're putting that to good use," I comment, noticing it's the journal I gave her, the one for her people's stories.

"Oh!" She starts, barely catching the ink bottle before it tumbles off her knee. "Commander, I didn't... I thought I was alone."

"You were," I reply with a smile. "I just got here. You've... written a lot in there."

She nods. "I needed some way to pass the time when I couldn't sleep. Because of the nightmares. Writing about our history was the best way I could think of to get my mind off of _them._ I'd stopped for a while after I found Jerin, too busy worrying about him, but it came up in conversation with him after he woke up, and... he convinced me to start doing it again." She laughs sheepishly. "We may not have as many stories as shems, but it still seems like a lot when you're trying to write them all down."

"I'm sure it does," I chuckle. "I'm glad Jerin motivated you to get back into doing it. Stories are meant to be shared, passed down. It's easier to do that if they're written down in some way. Good luck with that."

"_Ma serannas_, Commander. I think I'm going to need it," she admits. "Especially since Jerin's reading it as I make progress. To make sure I get things right."

"Ah, yes. I can see why you'd want all the luck you can get," I sympathize. "I'll leave you to it, then."

It's not until I"ve retreated from the room that I realize I forgot to grab a book. _Oh, well. There's a few things in my room, I'll just read one of them._ It means my options are more limited, yes, but oh, well. I don't want to bother Velanna.

I wind up settling on a small book of myths and legends. I know the story of Flemeth and Conabar is in here, and with what Morrigan told me about her mother, I want to read it again.

As I sprawl across my bed, book propped against my pillows, I realize I haven't seen Jowan all day. Since today isn't any kind of anniversary of anything big and bad for him-far as I know, at least-it's a little weird that I haven't seen him _at all_, but I'm too lazy to get up and check on him now.

_Later,_ I promise myself._ After I read a few chapters..._

I spend the rest of the afternoon lost in the pages of the book and don't emerge until the call for dinner.

_A/N: This chapter... ugh. Parts of it were oh so easy to write, like the scene with Jerin, and others fought me like you wouldn't believe. *headdesk* I came within a hairsbreadth of just giving up and posting a very short chapter this week. But Rahna wouldn't stop giving me grief about that idea, so I pressed on. I'm just glad it's done. *dead*_


	9. Pursuit

9. Pursuit

"Well, here goes nothing..." Sigrun muttered, eyeing the battered door of The Crown & the Lion and wishing she had armor to wear. It might help her look more the part of a Warden on a mission and less like simply a concerned friend nosing around. Even if, technically, she was both.

The Commander wanted her to see if anyone in the city had seen Anders since he disappeared, and both of them had personal reasons for hoping the dwarf got lucky. But it was only now, as she stood outside the tavern wiping sweaty palms on her light brown jerkin, that Sigrun realized how daunting her task might turn out to be. No human was going to take her seriously like this. The Revered Mother sure hadn't seemed to. Still, she'd _promised_ to ask, and since her word seemed to actually mean something to Rahna, she was going to keep it.

Swallowing hard, the dwarf pushed open the door and stepped inside the tavvern. Things had returned to normal here faster than the rest of the city, and while some outside the walls were still scrambling to finish repairs before winter set in for real, the inside of the tavern looked the same as before the darkspawn attack.

The bartender craned his neck as she approached, as if knowing he had a new patron but unable to locate her in the press of bodies.

Sigrun helped him out by slapping the counter. "Down here."

"Don't get many dwarves through 'ere," he commented in surprise when their eyes met. "Wot kin I getcha, luv?"

"I'm looking for someone and was wondering if you've seen him," Sigrun explained.

"Prob'ly 'ave, sweet'eart. Ev'ryone comes t' the' Crown. Wot's this fella o' yers look like, then?"

"He's human, blond hair, earring, looks like he hasn't shaved in a day or two," she rattled off.

The barkeep pursed his lips in thought. "Mebbe I saw yer man. Why should I tell you?"

Sigrun sighed. She knew how the game was played, but that didn't mean she liked it it. Even if she'd helped enforce the very same strategy before joining the Legion. "Because he and I are both Grey Wardens. He's disappeared, he's my friend, and I'm worried about him."

"Sorry, sweetie, that ain't enough."

She glared at him. "All I want is a simple yes or no. Did you see him?"

The bartender shrugged, smirking beneath his shaggy brows. "I'm runnin' a business 'ere, not a charity, luv. Pay for the info, pay for a drink, or get out."

Badly as she wanted to climb up on the counter and smash the man's face against it, Sigrun restrained herself. The Wardens needed to be on good terms with the city, and her breaking some arrogant jackass's nose wouldn't accomplish anything-no matter how badly the duster in her wanted to do it. But she hadn't brought money for a bribe-another oversight on her part-so she had no choice but to leave.

Cursing both the arrogant sod behind the counter and herself under her breath, Sigrun strode out of the establishment. She crossed the cobbled street and mounted the chantry steps. Leaning back against the base of Andraste's statue, the dwarf rubbed her eyes and tried to come up with a decent Plan B. As seconds turned into minutes, she was no closer to a solution, and it was beginning to frustrate her.

What'sa matter?" a young, high-pitched voiced asked, and Sigrun started. "Sowwy. Mama always says I shou'n't 'neak up on people."

The rogue smiled at the sight of her company; all ebony braids and big brown eyes. "It's alright. I was thinking, so you would've surprised me no matter what."

"Okay." The little girl nodded, hugging her rag doll closer. "Is sumfin wrong?"

"Well, I'm lookin' for a man, a friend of mine who ran away. I'm worried about what might've happened to him," Sigrun explained.

The girl rocked back on her heels, sucking one thumb as she thought. "Maybe I can help you look? Aunt Me-Me sayed I very good at findin' fings."

"I could use some help... What's your name, sprout?" Sigrun stood, nearly laughing aloud at the fact she was only a few inches taller than this girl.

"Marra. What's yours?"

"Sigrun," the dwarf replied.

"That's a funny name," Marra giggled. "Si... Sirgun."

"You wanna just call me Sig? That's what the commander does sometimes," Sigrun offered, chuckling at the faces the girl was making.

"C'mman'er?" Are you a soldier?"

"Uh-huh," the dwarf nodded. "And a Grey Warden."

Marra's eyes lit up. "Are you friends with the.. the elf Warden-Lady with th' scar an' Miss 'Lilah's bruvver?"

Sigrun laughed in earnest this time. "Rahna and Nathaniel? Sure am."

The girl's mouth formed an 'O' of silent wonder. "They're nice. The Warden-Lady helped Papa with fixin' our house. Ooh, ooh, ooh, Papa knows _ev'rything_ that happens in Ameranteen. Maybe he saw your friend." Marra grabbed Sigrun hand and tugged the dwarf toward the chantry doors. "He's visitin' Mama right now, so he's in here. C'mon!"

Smiling at her young accomplice's enthusiasm, Sigrun followed Marra into the building. _Hope you're right about your father, kiddo..._

**oOo**

His sister was a genius. Nathaniel was convinced that were her brilliant, scheming mind not accompanied by the tenderest of hearts, their father could have shaped her into someone terrible. He'd always known she was smart, but by the end of his first night this visit, Delilah had proven her deft touch with manipulation in the best possible way.

Namely, she had skillfully talked Albert into helping her do the dishes following dinner-rather than Vi, who Delilah insisted had done enough work that day already and deserved a break. She then sashayed into the kitchen the kitchen after her husband, leaving her older brother and her best friend alone to talk.

"She did that on purpose," Vi chuckled wryly, brushing a loose curl back toward her bun as she stared after her friend.

Nathaniel nodded. "She's a clever one, my sister." His lips curved in an affectionate smile. "If a bit transparent."

"Just a bit?" Vi teased. "I think your brotherly love is affecting your judgment, Nathaniel. She's completely and utterly transparent."

"Yes, I suppose I do have to give you that one," Nathaniel conceded. "Still, it would be a shame to pass up an opportunity to talk."

"Especially one Del so masterfully arranged," Vi agreed, hands nervously fiddling with her dress.

"Mm-hm," he agreed with a quiet chuckle. "So, how have you been?" He rested his chin in his hand and his elbow on the edge of the table, giving her his full attention.

Vi blushed ever so slightly. "Can't really complain," she shrugged. "Del and Albert said I can live them, so I at least have a roof over my head 'til I find a place of my own." She bit her lip and stared hard at the table's nicked surface. "It'll be strange livin' alone..." The confession was uttered softly enough he barely caught it, but Nathaniel still reached over, covering her hand with his sympathetically.

"I'm truly sorry we didn't get here in time," he murmured, voice almost as low as hers had been.

"Ain't your fault," Vi replied dismissively. "They was both kill in one of the first waves. Before Peter even got off t' fetch help." Her free hand rose to swipe away the tears pooling in her eyes and she cleared her throat, offering Nathaniel a watery smile. "I appreciate the thought, but we don't need t' rehash that. It's in the past, and I'm _blasted_ curious what you've been up to these past few months."

Nathaniel gave her hand a gentle squeeze before withdrawing, accepting the redirect. "Rahna had me accompany her to Denerim for the queen's wedding, and we ended up staying through the anniversary of the Battle of Denerim. I'm truly sorry for not letting you know in advance I was going to be gone."

"Why would you need t' tell _me_?" Vi frowned in confusion.

"Because I'm very interested in getting to know you better, Miss Henley, and diappearing for months on end is not the way to do that."

She blushed in earnest this time, fingers twisting a knot into her skirt. "Oh. Well, um..." She cleared her throat self-consciously. "You're forgiven, I suppose. Now, you were at Queen Anora's wedding?" Her eyes lit up when he nodded. "What was it like? I'll bet there were absolute droves of women in beautiful dresses."

Nathaniel nodded. "Not that I was really paying close attention, but yes, I suppose there were."

"Not paying attetnion? What's wrong with you?" Vi teased.

"I've never been one to care much for parties," he shrugged. "I only went because Rahna needed moral support."

"Indeed?" She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and I'll bet you got all dressed up too, didn't ya?" When Nathaniel confirmed that with a somewhat reluctant nod, the merchant's daughter looked vexed. "Maker, what I wouldn't've given to see that..."

"I'll have to keep that in mind," Nathaniel chuckled.

Vi blushed. "Oh, stop. I didn't... I just... I imagine you clean up right nice, that's all."

"That did seem to be the general consensus," Nathaniel allowed, not entirely comfortable with the direction the conversation had swung.

"Whaddya mean?" Vi demanded, facade of cool interest abandoned.

"The few women whose opinion I actually _heard_ all agreed with you," he explained. Noting the borderline panic in her eyes, the archer took pity and clarified, "Vi, the first was Rahna. And in truth there was only one other, who I didn't particularly want to talk to in the first place. She cornered me."

"_Cornered_ you?" Vi actually giggled. "Oh, this I have to hear, Ser Howe." She leaned forward, propping her chin on one hand.

Nathaniel sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that... It was Lucia Fairhollow. I believe she's a bann's daughter, or something similar."

"I've seen her," Vi nodded. "Very beautiful lady, she is. And you didn't want to talk to her?"

"Lucia Fairhollow likes to talk about one thing and one thing only: herself," he replied. "Vain beauties are hardly the sort of women I find attractive. Even less so when they all but throw themselves at any man come from a line higher-titled than their own."

"Oh, she didn't!" The blonde's eyes went huge.

"She did. Multiple times."

"Maker's breath, no," Vi giggled. "How the blazes did you make her stop?"

"I told her I was spoken for," Nathaniel smiled. "A rather wonderful and lovely lady my sister introduced me to."

"And that would be...?" she asked cautiously, as if testing shaky ground.

"You," he chuckled. "It would be you."

"Oh." She blushed. "Ain't never been called lovely before. Papa used t' call me his beautiful girl, but lovely... that's one I ain't heard yet."

"Well, I shall have to remedy that in the future, as much as possible," he replied. "If you'll allow it, that is?"

Vi snorted. "S'ppose I could live with that."

Nathaniel smiled. "Excellent. Now, if that's settled, my lady, I believe I should bid you a good night and take my leave." He winked at her and aimed a sly smile in the direction of the kitchen as he stood. "So my sweet little sister can stop eavesdropping and get to bed at a reasonable hour."

There was a sharp gasp of surprise, and Delilah sheepishly entered the room, lightly punching her brother's shoulder. "You rat. How did you _know_?" she huffed.

Nathaniel chuckled and kissed the top of his rather indignant sister's head. "That's my secret, Delilah. And I have to keep a few of them."

"Ooooh... you..." She sighed. "I guess I deserve that." One hand roamed over her rounding belly as she conceded, "And it is getting late..."

"Rahna gave me a month, Del," Nathaniel reminded her. "Plenty of time for us to visit. And for you to spy on me."

"Oh, go away, already," she muttered, but as he turned to comply, she tugged him back and went up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "See you tomorrow, brother?"

"Maker willing," he confirmed before turning back to Vi. "And I look forward to getting to know you better, Violet." Before his cautious nature could get the better of him, he took Vi's hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. Nathaniel then made his exit, unable to resist the slight smirk that pulled at his lips as he heard the two women react exactly as he'd thought they would.

The sound of shrieks and giggles followed him down the street as he made for the tavern, dispelling any lingering doubts he may have harbored about pursuing things with Violet Henley.

**oOo**

"You look awful proud of yourself," Sigrun commented with a grin before Nathaniel had even closed the door to their room. "I'll assume that's for good reason."

He chuckled as he sat on the edge of his bed to remove his boots. "You could say that, I suppose."

"Does this mean I can start teasing you about a certain shopkeeper's daughter?" the dwarf asked eagerly, completely abandoning the book she'd propped against her pillows to better interrogate her friend.

"Not when she's around," Nathaniel sighed, kicking his boots under the bed.

Sigrun rested her chin on the footboard of her bed and grinned deviously at him. "Well, that's a given. If she's around I'll just give you significant looks and waggle my eyebrows at you." She demonstrated impishly. "Sound good?"

"Whatever makes you happy," the archer muttered, stripping off his shirt and hanging it over the end of his bed.

"I can make you regret saying that," Sigrun replied matter-of-factly.

"I"m well aware. Please don't."

"Aww, you said please." She giggled. "I'll think about it. But I'll hafta take everything on a case by case basis..."

"...Sigrun?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to get some sleep now."

"Oh! Sorry. I'll stop talking now." The dwarf flopped back down to continue reading.

"Will wonders never cease," Nathaniel commented with a wry smile as he settled into bed.

Just for that, she threw a pillow at him.

_A/N: Dear lord, Nate and Vi... I CAN'T. I figured it would be nice to actually show some development of their relationship, rather than simply alluding to things in conversations and such Nate might have with Rahna or whoever. But they are so cute and fluffy and GAH. *flails* And I love the idea of Nate catching Delilah in the act of eavesdropping, because I could so see her doing that. :3 I also had to put Marra in again. The idea of her wanting to help Sigrun was too adorable to resist(plus I kinda missed her... xD)._


	10. Under the Weather

10. Under the Weather

Unfortunately for Jerin, the day that Velanna had told him he could return to "strenuous activity"-namely showing me what he can do with those swords of his-it's _pouring_ down rain. And not just any rain; the nasty icy stuf that usually stays in the south. I can't help but feel sorry for the poor man. But given his disdain for sympathy, I do my best not to let it show.

This is easier said than done, especially when I catch a glimpse of the warrior at his window, staring mournfully out at the sheets of water falling from the heavens. He looks like a little boy, denied a chance to play with his friends thanks to the weather.

"It'll stop eventually, you know," I comment, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

"Spyin' on me agin, Commander?" As usual, I can't tell if he's teasing me or honestly irked.

"No, never," I reply. "Just passing by and couldn't resist givin' you a reminder."

"I see," he mutters, still glaring at the rain.

"You can't make it stop by sheer force of will, Jer," I chuckle.

He spins around as if I'd hit him. "Don' call me that!" The demand is made with an almost pained vehemence that trails off in a softer, "_Don't_..."

I raise an eyebrow at his reaction, wondering what nerve I touched to earn _that._ "Sorry, Jerin. I tend to slide into nicknames when I'm more comfortable with people, sometimes. But if it's gonna earn me a hissy fit like _that_, I'll be sure not to do it with you."

Jerin eyes me as if unsure whether I'm serious or just mocking him. "I... that would be wise, I think, Commander."

"Well, then." I cough. "On that note, I think I'll leave you be. Wasn't intending to interrupt your brooding anyway," I tease.

"If you wish," he shrugs, turning to look back out the window.

As I continue down the hallway, it occurs to me that this is _exactly_ the kind of weather that would have me hunting up Anders for a game of Diamondback. The quiet sadness is not entirely unexpected, but it is more proniunced than I'd thought it would be. I lean against the wall for a second, resting my head back to meet the wood as I wait for the acute sadness to pass.

Once it finally does, I continue on, aimlessly making my way to the throne room. There I find Oghren thoroughly-and gleefully-trouncing Jowan and a couple of the militia at a hand of Diamondback. I grin, tempted to lean against the wall and just watch this go down. I don't give in to the temptation, instead circling their table until I'm next to Jowan.

"You know Oghren cheats, right?" I whisper in the mage's ear.

He nods almost despairingly. "Figures that out pretty quick. Not that he _needs_ to against me..."

"Than why...?"  
"Nothin' else to do," he shrugs, answering the question before I'm done asking it.

"Ah. I guess this does beat staring out the window trying to will the rain away."

"Only just," Jowan half-grumbles.

"Hey! Commander! You ain't tellin' him my cards are ya?!" Oghren interrupts gruffly.

"So what if I am?" I retort, winking at the dwarf. "It's just leveling the playing field."

He grumbles but doesn't deny it. I watch for a few more minutes before leaving. I feel like heading for my room and taking a nap or something. This is the sort of day that gently coerces you into curling up in bed with a mug of hot tea and good book to read until you fall asleep. That plan in mind, I take a somewhat lengthy but worthwhile detour past the kitchen to make up said tea, carefully carrying a steaming mug of the brew with me when I leave a few minutes later.

Since it's easier to stay in a curled up position in my window seat than on the bed, I grab a pillow to lean against and a blanket to pull over my legs-my feet get cold easy-before settling in there. I'm still working my way through the tome of myths and legends, currently reading the tale of Dane and the Werewolf.

Between the steady patter of rain against the window and the soothing warmth of my tea, not to mention the blanket, I'm almost surprised it takes me as long as it does to drift off.

**oOo**

_ "How much further was Orzammar supposed to be?"_

_ "D-Does it matter?" I stutter, chilly and just a tad grumpy as I shuck my soaked tunic and bend to work at the buckles on my boots with numbed fingers. "N-Not like we ca-an keep walk-walking in this any-way..."_

_ Alistair chuckles as he gently nudges my hands out of the way. "Let me. My fingers aren't half-frozen from mountain rain. Maybe I'll have more luck."_

_ Much as I want to protest, I know he's probably right. The rainstorm that caught us off-guard as we worked our way through the Frostback Mountains is as freezing as it is torrential. Down below, the weather's tilting toward early autumn, but up among the frozen peaks, that makes little to no difference regarding the rain's temperature. Alistair was lucky enough to be wearing gauntlets that covered __**all**__ of his hand; not fingerless glove like mine and Zev's._

_ So I let my knight-who's halfway out of his shining armor-loosen the necessary buckles and gently ease off my boots. My toes instantly curl as a rush of cold air skitters across the floor of the cave in which we've taken shelter. It's not until he's set the boots aside and looks up at me that I see concern darken Alistair's eyes._

_ "Maker, Rahna, you're turning __**blue,**__" he informs me, frowning with worry._

_ "I am?" I glance down at my hands, and sure enough, the lower half of all of my fingernails are a pale, icy blue. "D-Didn't think I was __**that**__ c-cold..."_

_ Alistair swears under his breath and hurriedly yanks a blanket out of his pack, cocooning me inside it. "Can't have you freezing to death, O Fearless Leader." He tries to smile, but I can see the fear in his eyes even as he kisses the tip of my nose. "Get off the rest of your wet things, right now."_

_ "F-For me be-bein' the lead-er you're awful b-bossy," I tease as I obey, wriggling out of my dripping wet trousers and socks and hugging the blanket close around me._

_ He shrugs, finishing the process of removing his armor. __**His**__ clothes, at least, are dry. "You've rubbed off on me, I suppose, love. C'mere." He pulls me toward him, separating the edges of the blanket to wrap it around both of us as we settle into a nook towards the back of the cave._

_ "What're y-you do-ing?" I mutter, still shivering as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close._

_ "Making sure you don't, y'know, __**die**__, silly woman," he teases, his big, warm hands tracing circles against my back._

_ "Oh. Thanks." Were I not so cold I can't think straight, I probably would've figured that out, given the heavenly way his body heat reaches through his clothes and starts warming me up. I curl into a tighter ball against his chest, and feel him instinctively flinch when my ice cold feet brush against his leg._

_ He forestalls my apology with a kiss. "Don't even worry about it, love."_

_ "You really are perfect," I rib, curling my fingers into the fabric of his shirt._

_ "I just don't want you to die and leave me in charge," he jokes._

_ I poke him in the ribs for that. "At least you're honest..."_

_ "Ow! To a fault, it seems."_

_ "That's why I love you," y'know." I kiss the underside of his jaw, smirking when I feel the resulting shudder ripple through his body_

_ "Yep," he replies breathlessly, grinning at me._

_ I roll my eyes. "That and your humility..."_

_ "'M sure I don't know what you're talking about..." he murmurs innocently, trailing one hand lightly up my spine and giving me shivers that are in no way related to the cold._

_ "Sure ya don't." I humor him, snuggling up against his chest with his heartbeat in my ear. "Hmm, maybe I don't mind this weather quite so much after all..."_

_ His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest as his kisses the top of my head, and I __**know **__I don't mind this sort of weather so much after all._

**oOo**

I jerk out of my doze and stare out the window, smiling wistfully at the memory. Our wonderful private moment was ruined a few seconds later when Zevran came to check on us-he'd apparently noticed me turning blue as well-and, being _him_, couldn't resist making some suggestive remark that had Alistair blushing furiously. The warrior barely managed to catch my arm before I went chasing after my fellow rogue in nothing more than my smalls and the blanket.

I settled for getting my revenge later. My smile turns to a smirk at the memory. Zev didn't tease for quite a while after that._ Betcha anything that Aenya keeps him in line..._ The dwarf didn't seem to enjoy him making comments like _that_ about anyone other than her. Given Zev's flirtatious nature, I can't help but wonder what kind of compromise took place to make them both happy. And while my mind's already on them, I spare a moment to wonder how their campaign against the Crows is going. I almost wish I could be in Antiva, helping them. I'll bet even dreary days like this aren't boring for them, what with the constant threat of discovery and death hanging over their heads.

But I'm glad I'm here. Someone has to make Oghren behave and keep Jerin's transition to Warden life as easy as possible. Even if it means enduring the occasional boring day trapped inside by nasty weather, with no Alistair to snuggle or Zevran to regale me with tales of his exploits.

**oOo**

All interest in my current book lost once I've finished the really interesting stories, so I climb out of the window seat and head for the library. Maybe Velanna would let me read something from the Dalish stories she's been writing down. They would, at least, be tales I haven't heard a dozen times over growing up.

However, when I reach the library, I'm forced to scratch that plan. Velanna is there, and does have the book of tales with her, but it's... currently in use. The blonde mage is turned sideways on the short bench she's apparently claimed as her own, feet braced against the side of one bookshelf and her back against another, with her pet project propped against her knees as she reads one of the tales aloud.

I can't help but grin, and have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep a laugh from spilling out, when I see her audience. Jerin sits on the floor, leaning against the bookshelf Velanna's also using as a backrest, his eyes closed as he listens to her tell the tale of Fen'Harel. As I watch, he cracks open one eye and gently corrects a detail she recorded wrong. Velanna blushes-_**blushes**_-and mutters something about it being silly of her to forget as she reaches for quill and ink to correct her mistake.

That's when I realize my teasing accusation a few days ago was more right than I knew: however _he _might feel about _her_, Velanna is sweet on Jerin.

_This could be very interesting to watch play out..._ I smirk to myself as I quietly back away, plans to borrow Velanna's book put on a very definite hold.

"Spying again, Rahna?" I jump and nearly shriek at the whispered question, and Jowan barely catches my wrist in time to keep me from instinctively slugging him.

"Sweet Andraste, you of all people should know better than to sneak up on me like that!" I hiss at the mage, who's trying desperately not to laugh.

"Sorry."

"No, you're not." I cross my arms and glare at him, but that only lasts a few seconds. "Oh, forget it. I can't stay mad at you. Wanna go beg Cook for a snack? I'm _sodding_ hungry."

Jowan laughs and tweaks one of my rumpled pigtails. "That's 'cause you slept through lunch."

"Hmm. That would make sense." My stomach growls, even louder than usual, as if to underscore my comment. "What was it?"

"Chicken and dumplings," he replies, biting back a laugh as my stomach grumbles again and my eyes widen.

"Out of my way, mage," I order playfully as I push past him, making for the kitchen with more speed than usual. I hear him laughing as he trails along behind me, but I don't care.

_Food now, revenge later,_ I tell myself, knowing damn well said revenge will likely never manifest itself.

_A/N: Oh, sweet Maker in heaven... Sulky!Jerin was soo fun to write. :3 As was Crushing!Velanna :3 Needless to say, I ship them so. hard. now. Unfortunately for Velanna(and us...) it's going to take awhile before we know if anything comes of this, because reasons. Involving some unresolved issues from Jerin's past(that yes, also tie into why he snapped at Rahna when she called him Jer). All will be brought to light and resolved eventually, but it will take time. My characters never seem to rush. XD I think they like torturing people. And that flashback... *flails* Oh, that flashback. I am so very glad the muses decided to remind me I hadn't done one of those yet for Always. Because alksfs so cute. And I'm soooo sorry this is late; ffnet wasn't letting me post last week. :(_


	11. Your Own Fault

11. Your Own Fault

We get another three days of half-frozen rain before the weather stays clear long enough for the ground to even sort of dry out.

But I take pity on Jerin and tell him that if he's okay with getting muddy, we can duel whenever he's ready.

"_You're_ goin' t' do it, C'mmander?" he asks, one eyebrow arching in surprise.

"You aren't the only one around here who's antsy, Mahariel," I shoot back with a grin. "And besides, I like to test people against their own strength-at least to start-and my only other two-weapon fighter's in the city right now. Probably won't be back for another week or so. And I don't wanna make you wait that long."

"Appreciate that," he nods.

"I also don't mind getting muddy, so if you're fine with that risk, we could suit up and go right now."

Jerin laughs. "Tha's only a risk if I fear I'll wind up on th' ground. Which I don't. So twenty minutes, C'mmander?" He winks at me, all confidence and surety.

"Oh, you're _so_ on," I retort, already heading for my room. "I'll see you in the practice ring, Mahariel."

"Twenty minutes," he calls after me before making tracks to his own room.

I have to admit, he's extremely confident in his abilities. So long as he can put some weight behind his words, this is more good than bad. Knowing what you're capable of doing is a quality I admire-so long as you don't overestimate yourself. I'm really curious if Jerin's as good as he-and his Keeper-seem to think he is.

**oOo**

I'm in my armor and down to the practice ring with a couple minutes to spare. Jerin's already waiting for me, rolling his shoulders uneasily in heavy-duty leathers someone dug up for him to use.

"You alright?" I double-check as I pull two practice swords free of their barrel.

"Is all shemlen armor this suffocatin'?" he grumbles.

"Some's worse," I answer, smiling sweetly. He scowls. "But some's not so bad. I just figured, since you're a warrior, you'd be used to heavier armor."

Jerin shakes his head. "No. I usually just wear typical Dalish leathers. Not this stiflin' stuff."

"Well, I'll get somebody to find you some armor that's closer to what you're used to," I promise. "Do you wanna put off our duel until some can be found?"

"Creators, no!" he bursts out. "I mean, I'll make do for now, C'mmander." He still glares at the leather covering his limbs as he retrieves a pair of practice swords as well. He tests their weight in his hands, decides they're close enough to his "real" swords to do the trick, and faces me, assuming a defensive stance. "Ready when you are."

Never one to back down from a challenge, I oblige him, charging forward with my swords at the ready. As I get closer, I swing one up and the other in from the side.

Jerin blocks them both, spinning so that his elbow connects hard with my now-unguarded ribcage.

I grunt and instinctively backpedal, blocking the strikes he aims at my midsection as I retreat.

"Sorry, C'mmander, shoulda warned ya; I'm not afraid t' fight dirty," he grins as he follows me.

"Oh, I'm used to _that_," I pant, feeling my ribs throb as I snort, "You're not the first warrior I've dueled who was comfortable with such tricks. Whatever it takes to win, right?"

"Exactly!" Jerin replies as he closes in, very much on the attack now. We move in a blurringly fast dance of swords and tricks and dodges, fighting each other to a gasping, breathless draw.

"Wanna... go... again?" I ask between breaths. "After a break?"

He nods, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of one wrist. "Sounds... good."

And so for twenty minutes we perch on the top rail of the fence, catching our breath and trying to pinpoint weaknesses in the other's fighting styles. By the time we're ready to go again, we have an audience. It starts with just a couple of the militia who probably intended to use the ring themselves, but I know it's only a matter of times before word spreads. After all, the _Commander of the Grey_ is dueling her new _Dalish_ recruit. That's bound to attract a crowd.

Jerin and I do our best to ignore them as we walk to the center and take up positions.

"No holds barred?" he mutters as he adjusts his grip.

"No trick off limits," I murmur back by way of agreement.

"And may the best fighter win," we whisper in unison, resting our blades against each other. Neither of us is inclined to wait for any sort of starting signal; nerves wound so tight we're positively twitchy. So I start off by shoving my swords even harder against his, until the hilts lock together and he starts leaning backwards, and try to sweep his legs out from under him.

Unfortunately, I'm just slow enough for him to figure out my intentions-he's far from stupid, after all-and he manages to avoid my kick at his legs, dodging backwards fast enough I actually feel myself losing my balance. Rather than try to keep it and open myself up to an attack, I roll forward in a somersault, feeling the muddy ground squish and ooze beneath me. I scoop up a handful of the sludge on my way back to my feet and toss it at Jerin as a method of distraction. I miss his face due to the haste of my aim, but it collides with his shoulder and explodes quite nicely across one side of his face all the same.

"What were you saying' about mud not being a worry, Jerin?" I gloat.

He swears in elvish, glaring at me as he swipes at the dark mud freckling his cheek, and easily blocks my next attempt to strike him.

_Damn, you are good..._ I admit to myself as I push slightly against his blade. I'm not going to fall for the same manuever twice, especially not twice in the same duel, but I want to test his endurance, how well he's holding up. He's not expecting the force I put into this 'test', however, which ends up equalling his fist accidentally making contact with my eye hard enough to set lights flashing inside my skull.

"Ah! Sorry, I swear that wasn't intentional!" he apologizes.

I give my head a shake to clear the ringing stars away. "I've fought with worse. That's nothing." I don't mention the dressing-down I'm fairly sure I'll get from a certain mage when he sees the black eye I'm convinced is blooming even as we speak. "C'mon, I'm not done with you yet, Mahariel," I grin.

Shrugging as if finally convinced of my insanity, Jerin obliges. He swings his swords in cris-crossing, scissoring motions as he advances, quickly backing me into a corner.

Since we agreed to no-holds barred, I have no qualms about lowering my shoulder and ramming it into his solar plexus as a means of escape. I knock him more sideways than straight back, and Jerin grabs at the fence to stay upright. I take advantage of his being off-balance to take a swing at him. He barely manages to block it, still regaining his feet.

But once he has his balance back, he comes after me, aiming to get me in another corner. I kick mud at him from a particularly liquid puddle, the sheet of watery mud barely slowing him for a second.

In that second, I sweep his legs out from under him-actually succeeding this time-and grin as he lands shoulder blades first in the mud.

He swears again, this time in heavily-accented Common, and one arm swings out, catching the heel of my boot as I try to move away, and tugs, landing me in an awkward heap half on my side.

He's already moving toward upright-using the leverage my ankle provided-and so regains his feet before I do. Thus, I've barely made it to my hands and knees before I find myself staring at a pair of mud-splattered swords leveled at my head by a smug and equally mud-splattered warrior.

"Yield, Tabris?" he asks, a note of playful victory in his breathless tone.

I sigh and swipe mud out of my eyes, evaluating my chances versus the benefits to letting him have this one. I raise empty, muddy hands, and nod. "I yield."

The collective gasp that rises as the gathered militia realize the "invincible" Rahna Tabris actually got _beaten_ makes me smile. _See, everybody? I'm not perfect. The scars are not just for show._

"Good fight. You're gonna make a damned good Warden," I pant, accepting the hand up that Jerin offers.

He nods his gratitude, grinning at the compliment. "Thank ya, C'mmander."

"Now-" I wince as the adrenaline fades and my sore spots make themselves _very_ evident-"I say we each track down a healer and get ourselves fixed up."

"Even if said fixin' up comes hand-in-hand with a lecture?" Jerin teases as we duck between the fence rails and make our weary way back to the keep.

"I'd rather listen to Jowan fuss at me for twenty-odd minutes than spend a week wincing every time I so much as smile," I point out. "You?"

He concedes the point with a nod. "Agreed."

**oOo**

Jerin's right; the first words out of Jowan's mouth when I find him are something along the lines of "What in the Maker's name did you do _this_ time?!" He shakes his head and quickly follows it with, "On second thought, do I even want to know?"

I look at myself; mud drying over the majority of my armor, flaking off my face and hair, and then back at the mage with a sheepish smile. "I owed Jerin a duel?" I try, the excuse coming out like a question.

Jowan sighs and mutters something under his breath. "Try and keep the mess to a minimum getting out of your armor, please."

"Sorry," I grin, still sheepish and feeling more mud flake off my face. Gingerly as I can, I strip off the muddy leathers, discarding them in a pile out in the hallway.

Jowan chuckles, almost in spite of himself, when I'm done. "You're now very clean, but only from the neck down, Rahna."

I peek in the mirror and have to laugh at the incongruously muddy face reflected back. "Ow! Don't make me laugh right now, dammit!"

"Not until I've fixed you up?" he fills in for me.

"Well, yeeahhh..." I admit. "It is _my_ fault I'm closer to you than the other healers?"

"Yes," he deadpans. "And I'm not doing a bloody thing until the mud's gone. Can't heal what I can't see."

I have to give him that one, so I clean the mud off my face as best I can, going carefully around my blackened eye. _At least it was the left one..._ I console myself. _If it swells shut, there's no great loss._

Jowan's eyebrows shoot upward when I turn around. "Sweet Andraste, _Rahna_..." There's a lifetime of exasperation packed into just my name.

I cock a sideways glance in the mirror and have to concur. "Okay, I think that might be the worst black eye I've had in my life."

"So, if you're this beat up, dare I ask about Jerin?" he inquires as he motions for me to sit on the edge of his desk so he can get a better look.

"Actually..." I clear my throat and shift guiltily on my perch. "He won."

"Did you let him?" Jowan probes as his fingers coast gently over the side of my face, ensuring there's nothing broken involved before he sends a pulse of healing magic through the problem area.

"Mmmm... yes and no," I reply. "When he 'beat me', I coulda _tried_ to get out of it, made him work a bit more, but honestly, I dunno if it would've change the outcome. Jerin's a _sodding_ good warrior."

"If he beat you, he must be," Jowan comments. "Any other bruises I need to take care of?"

"Well, my back's sore from slamming against the fence, and he elbowed me pretty hard in the ribs," I answer, rolling up my tunic so he can see the purpulish bruise that's splayed across my ribs.

"What am I going to do with you, Rahna?" he sighs as he examines the tender patch.

"Ouch! Hopefully make me stop hurting, first of all," I retort, "Or I may just give you some bruises of your own."

"I'm positively _trembling_," he teases dryly, shooting me a smirk.

"Keep pushing and I'll have to do it on principle, you know, "I threaten with a laugh-one that's quickly followed by a wince.

"That one's your own fault," Jowan's kind enough to point out.

"Oh, shut up and heal me," I grouse.

"Y'know, if you wouldn't do things like this, I wouldn't _need _to heal you."

"Occupational hazard," I protest. "I gotta test the new blood."

"I'm not tryin' to change your mind or anything," he clarifies as he finishes up. "I gave up on _that_ ages ago, but I feel obligated to at least _say_ something."

"Because you're a smartass," I tease.

"_No_, because I'm your friend, goose," he shoots back. "Though Maker only knows why, with the amount of abuse I endure." He grins and musses my hair, which causes a fresh shower of dried mud to cascade onto his desk.

I smirk. "That one's _your_ fault." I hop down and head for the door. "I think I'll go take a bath now."

"Please do," Jowan deadpans, glowering at the powdery mud coating his desk. I make a face at him before collecting my armor and heading for my room.

_A/N: Sweet Maker, I don't know which was more fun to write; Rahna and Jerin's duel or exasperated!Jowan. xD I think he's even more fun to write exasperated than sleepy or as a little kid. *giggle* And yes, Jerin really is badass enough to beat Rahna. :P I put him in the armor from the Courage of Zevran mod, and he was freaking awesome. He was one of my favorite Wardens to play because he was next to invincible on top of being awesome. XD What do you wanna bet Velanna's giving the nerly invincible badass an earful right about now? Oh, and also, I've decided Rahna and Jerin are going to call each other by their surnames(when they're not using "Commander" and "Warden) because it seems to fit them. :P_


	12. Fire and Ice

12. Fire and Ice

Having a mage around is a surefire way to get spoiled. Gabriel couldn't help but reflect on the truth of that fact as he felt Miri's fingers trace random patterns against his back, trailing cold magic across his skin that was quickly-and almost erotically-chased away by her warm breath as the mage rested her head against the back of his shoulder.

He wondered how long it would take her to realize he was awake, at least sort of. Since that would probably mean she'd stop, he decided to pretend a little longer. Miri started humming to herself, a random child's tune, and the warrior hid a smile by burying his face in his pillow.

_How lucky am-Ah!- I?_ Gabriel thought smugly, almost losing his chain of thought as a particularly chilly index finger traced the outline of his shoulder blade. He instinctively flinched, his body arching slightly up from its prone position, and he heard Miri giggle.

"I know you're awake, love," she whispered, tracing a spiral down the center of his back, skimming over scars and faint freckles until her hand _almost_ disappeared under the blankets that had bunched around his hips.

"Mmm, Minx," Gabriel mumbled, toes curling at the sensation of ice on skin as he rolled onto his side to grin at the dark-skinned elf whose bed he shared. "It's unfair, no?"

"What is, my fiery warrior?" the mage baited, snuggling close and trailing ice along the scars that marked his chest.

"That you have-_Andraste's grâce_-all these tricks to leave me breathless in the best possible waaay-_Épouse du Maker_, but my only method for returning the FA-vor is one we share."

Miri stopped, all but smirking at the noises she'd coaxed from the red-head with just her fingers. "And what way would that be?"

In answer, Gabriel leaned over and ever so gently nipped the tip of her ear.

"_Gabriel!_" His name sounded astonishingly like a prayer when uttered in such breathless tones. He rather enjoyed it. Almost as much as he enjoyed the way Miri's fingers dug into his arm as he moved lower. He knew her earrings made the lobes of her ears even more sensitive than most elves', a fact he exploited when he reached them.

The strings of breathless imprecations that poured from Miri's lips assured him she was enjoying this even more than he was.

They lay together in silence for a minute or two when he finally released her ear, the only sound in the room Miri's ragged breathing.

Once she'd caught her breath, however, the mage shot him a roguish grin. "My turn," she murmured before setting her teeth lightly to the point of his ear.

Gabriel could have sworn he heard her chuckle at the stream of Orlesian he unleashed with the sensation of lips and teeth and tongue as she caressed her way down and then back up again, leaving him just as breathless as she'd been moments before.

"See?" he gasped once he could think straight, pressing a kiss to her fingertips. "_Horribly_ unfair, no?"

"Oh, I like it _just. fine._"

"You would. _Petite coquine."_

"I-"

Miri's retort was interrupted by a pounding against her door. "Surana? You in there?"

She groaned. "No rest for the wicked I guess..."

"_Amor_, if that saying is true, you should not be the _slightest_ bit surprised after last night," Gabriel pointed out, kissing the side of her neck as she sat up.

The pounding resumed. "Surana?"

The two elves exchanged glances. Common knowledge as their relationship might be, neither wanted to get caught like this.

"Give me a minute, for Andraste's sake!" Miri hollered toward the door, snatching Gabriel's pants from the floor and shoving them into his hands. "I'm not dressed!"

"Which is the way I prefer you," Gabriel muttered as he pulled on his pants.

"Horny this morning, aren't we, love?" Miri hissed at him, yanking a wrinkled blue dress over her head, smoothing it as best she could and tightening the bodice lacings as she scrambled for the door. "Yes?"

"Sleep in this morning, Princess?"

Gabriel snorted a laugh in the midst of searching for his shirt as Miri self-consciously ran her fingers through her hair.

"You could say that," she shot back at the dwarf. "But I fail to see why it pertains to whatever you need, Luc."

"Simmer down, Mir," Gabriel laughed, abandoning his search as the shirt was apparently nowhere to be found.

She rolled her eyes at him before turning back to Luc. "Ignore him. What did you need?"

Luc grinned sheepishly. "I may possibly have caused some very real damage to Ashe in what was meant to be a practice duel, and she's too bloody proud to admit it's serious."

"How serious?" Miri frowned, letting the door drift open as she went after shoes.

"I don't know," Luc shrugged, raising an eyebrow at Gabriel, who simply shot him a dirty look in response. "She won't let me see."

"Were you two using real weapons again?" she demanded.

"She insisted, no?" Luc replied. "And who am I to turn down the wishes of a lovely lady?"

"Alright, you smooth talker," Miri sighed, tugging on a pair of slippers. "Lead the way."

"Hold on a moment," Gabriel protested, pulling her back into his chest. He felt her start and realized she hadn't paid attention as he crossed the room. "Sorry, Mir. But I need a goodbye kiss before I even contemplate letting you go off with another man."

She sighed at his teasing and turned around to kiss him properly, her fingers digging into his hair. "Happy?"

"That should tide me over 'til tonight," he conceded in a whisper.

"Mm, good. Now, find your shirt, and get on with your day."

"As my lady commands," Gabriel promised lightly, kissing the top of her head.

Miri smiled briefly at him and then followed Luc down the hallway.

**oOo**

"So, care to fill me in on what exactly happened?" Miri asked, tucking her hair behind her ears as she and Luc navigated the maze of hallways between her room and Ash'es.

He shrugged. "Nothing too crazy. We dueled a couple times, she got tired of losing, said if I was so good, we could do this with _real_ weapons, no? After all, I'm good enough she wouldn't even be able to touch me."

"And you actually _agreed_?!"

Luc grimaced at the censure in the elf's voice. "Yes. I thought it would be a fun challenge; it's bloody difficult to use a flail without causing serious damage, but I thought I could manage."

"Apparently not," Miri muttered, rubbing her arms at the chill seeping from the stone walls.

"We made it through almost the entire duel," Luc protested. "She was just... quicker with her backhand than I expected and so Vera made contact a little harder than I'd meant for her to, no? But Ashe wouldn't let me see how much damage I did, insisted on finishing. I won, and rather than grumble and tease about how she'll eventually beat me whenever I stop being a cheating bastard, she made some excuse about being worn out and retired to her quarters."

"Wait, _Ashe_ lost gracefully? And 'worn out'? Berserkers are usually pumped up by combat, _especially_ her," Miri frown.

"So you see why I was worried?" Luc prodded, cracking his knuckles agitatedly.

"Aye," the mage nodded, huffing her bangs out of her eyes as they reached Ashe's room. "Maybe you should let me handle this alone? She obviously doesn't want you to know, whatever her reasons might be."

The dwarf frowned in consternation, ready to protest, but was interrupted when the door swung open and Ashe's roommate emerged. "Oh, Miri, you here for Ashe?"

Miri nodded. "Sure am."

The woman sighed in relief, tugging on one of the many narrow braids that brushed against her shoulders. "Good. The bloody stubborn bitch keeps swearin' every time she moves. I told her she'd hafta let ya see eventually; my knowledge of herbs ends with which ones make good poisons. She's in a soddin' foul mood."

"Heh. Thanks for the heads up, Larysa," Miri nodded gratefully. She slipped into the room as the other woman walked out, knocking on the doorframe as she passed. "Ashe?"

"What?!" The warrior sat on the edge of her bed, left arm cradled in her lap and her normally bound-up braid hanging down her back almost to the bed.

"Need help with with that?" the mage nodded toward the swollen limb.

Ashe-looking even paler than usual-nodded and began to extend her arm, but froze with it halfway between her and the elf.

"Who... told you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, Luc mentioned he was worried about how hard he hit you-"

"That damn bastard needs to stop treatin' me like I'm made out of porcelain," Ashe seethed.

"Let me finish, would you? I was just going to _check_, but Larysa talked about how much it was bothering you."

"I'm perfectly capable of takin' care of myself," the berserker muttered, trying to flex her fingers in proof, but only managing to make fresh tears of pain spring to already-puffy eyes.

"Ashe, everybody gets hurt from time to time," Miri reminded her friend, perching next to the woman on the bed and ever so gently tugging her injured wrist closer. "Putting off treatment only makes matters worse. D'you really want to lose use of your dominant hand just for the sake of your pride?"

"Let me think..." Ashe ground out, fighting back a whimper at Miri's cautious touch.

"_**Ashe**_."

"Just.. ngh.. kidding." She didn't fight as the elf examined her arm. "It's not broken, is it?"

Miri shook her head. "Feels more like dislocated. Though that is a _nasty_ scratch."

"Vera has spikes now. An ordinary skull-thumper mace wasn't enough for Kader, oh no, he had to add_ spikes_."

Miri raised an eyebrow as the blue glow of a healing spell started around her hand. "There a reason you seem so pissed right now? What I hear, real weapons was your idea."

Ashe sighed and rolled her eyes. "It _was, _but... _sod, _why'd I have to get hurt with him around?!"

"Luc? You think Luc's gonna have a lower opinion of you because your wrist got dislocated? Speaking of which, brace yourself; this is gonna hurt." Miri paused long enough for Ashe to get a good grip on the bedpost before twisting and yanking to realign the dislocated joint. "If anything, I think he's bloody impressed you kept fightin' and didn't pass out from the pain."

"_OhsweetMakerandAndraste'sbloodypyre_..." Ashe sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a long slow hiss at the sharp spike of pain. "Are you... are you serious?"

"Luc's a warrior, Ashe. The ability to fight through crippling pain is impressive. I think he admires your tenacity more than anything. And he mentioned the whole reason this happened is you have a faster backhand than he expected." Both of the mage's eyebrows arched at the look on her friend's face. "But why do you even care? I though you didn't even really like him."

"I don't. Not really," Ashe retorted a mite too quickly, her face going blank. "I just... the last thing I need is that pretentious bastard with something else to lord over me."

"Uh-huh." Miri cleared her throat to soften the sarcasm. "Next time then, don't use _real weapons_." She stood and headed for the door.

"Thanks, Mir." The warrior offered a grateful smile to her departing friend.

"Not a problem." Miri bobbed her head in acknowledgement. "Take it easy for a few days, alright? No duels with Luc-or anybody, for that matter."

A smirk curved Ashe's lips. "I'll do m'best. But I promise nothing."

The mage sighed. "Then I reserve the right to tell you 'I told you so', in that case."

"Deal. Now, I need to find some food. Care to join me?"

Miri's stomach growled at the mention of food. That was one appetite she _hadn't_ satisfied this morning. "Love to."

_A/N: Ahh, finally. I've been trying to get a Gabriel and Miri chapter in here for weeks. The muses weren't cooperating. The two of them are so much fun to write together :3 And the friendly rivalry that's building between Luc and Ashe is fun, too. On the subject of Ashe, yes, she's left-handed. And yes, she's stubborn and proud. xD_

_Translations:_

_Andraste's grâce = Andraste's mercy_

_Épouse du Maker = Bride of the Maker_

_Petite coquine = little minx_

_Amor = love_


	13. New Arrivals

13. New Arrivals

Things are relatively quiet and definitely _boring_ over the next couple weeks, and excitement only comes when Honey has her puppies; three boys and a very adorable girl, all varying shades of tan. I spend enough time out in the stables just watching them and plotting how to tell Nathaniel about them that Jowan starts to tease.

I ignore him. He's just jealous that he's too busy to join me, since it's gotten chilly enough to spark off the inevitable round of illnesses that come with winter, and he's stuck inside as the primary healer. But far as I'm concerned, the stables are a decent place to hide for a break from the pressures of command; the noises are the mewling of Honey's pups and the occasional reassuring snuff from one of the parents. I bring a book out with me and read until the light fades away.

A week and a half after the puppies are born, my solitude is interrupted far earlier than usual by Lucy.

"Here to check on the little ones?" I ask with a smile. As the only one here with an extensive knowledge of mabari, she's made a habit of checking on Honey's litter at least once a day.

"Yes, Commander. That, and Seneschal Varel wanted you to know we have visitors." She pauses, gives me a significant look. "From Weisshaupt."

_Finally,_ I can't help thinking as I mark my page and scramble to my feet. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Of course, ser.," she nods, smiling. I hear a crooning not slip into her voice as she turns to the pups. "And how are my lovelies on this fine day...?"

I grin to myself, drumming my fingers against the cover of my book as I cross the courtyard. I can't help but marvel at the progress that's been made over the past few months. The places is starting to look like a proper fortress again.

The door to the main hall creaks as I open it-something I've noticed getting worse as it gets colder-and the hall's occupants turn to greet me.

"Ah, Commander, there you are," Varel greets me with a smile as I approach. "I was hoping Lucy would find you."

"Seneschal," I nod in greeting. "You know a mention of visitors is going to pique my interest." I turn to smile at the trio of new arrivals. "I hope your journey here went smoothly?"

Their apparent leader, a strawberry-blond warrior not too terribly much taller than me, smiles back. "Smooth as a river-worn stone, thank yeh, Commander."

I raise an eyebrow at the lilt in his voice as I extend my hand. "Starkhaven?"

His smile widens as he takes my hand and gives it a firm shake. "Aye."

"Lucky guess," I laugh, seeing the question in his eyes. "Rahna Tabris, Commander of the- well, you know that part already."

He chuckles. "Declan Raenyr, Senior Warden from Weisshaupt. These gentl'men would be Seth and Christopher. We've come in regard tae th' letter yeh wrote th' First Warden."

"Mm. About Zimri?"

"Aye. Tha' would be et. Th' First Warden feels et would be best if the offendin' Warden was removed tae Weisshaupt tae face punishment fer hes willin'ness tae b'tray hes brothers-en-arms."

"No arguments here," I reply. "Were you plannin' on staying a bit, or do you want to be off with him straightaway?"

"I b'lieve stayin' a night would be best, and they ken leave en th' morning, if et pleases yeh, Commander?" He clasps his hands behind his back as he glances at me for approval.

"'S fine with me, but _they_? Are you not planing to leave, Ser Raenyr?"

"Jest Declan, if yeh please, and s'long as et's alright wit' y'self, I'll be stayin'. Th' First Warden figured if yeh were losin' a Warden, et's only fair tae send a replacement, aye?" Declan explains.

"Heh. If you promise not to heckle my mages, Declan, I have no problems with that arrangement," I chuckle.

"Never yeh fear, Commander. Any biases I had were left at m' Joinin'," he assures me. "I'll no' cause trouble."

"Then you'll do just fine. For now, let's get you three settled in rooms, maybe introduce you to Zimri?"

"Sounds like a marvelous plan, Commander," Declan winks at me.

"Oh, yes, one thing: if you're going to be stationed here, it's Rahna. Not Commander, unless we're in a serious or official setting, like the Chantry or somethin'," I inform him as we start down the hall.

"Aye, Commander," he teases with a mock salute, and I see Christopher and Seth stifle laughs behind their hands.

"Oh, you _are_ going to fit in well here," I mutter. "So, d'you three want to get settled in and out of your armor an' all first, or would you rather meet Zimri and get that over with?"

"If it's all the same to you, ser, I think it would be best if we weren't in armor when we meet him," Seth speaks up and Christopher nods an agreement. "It'll seem less... antagonistic, I suppose. And given how much time we'll be spending with the man, I'd like to begin our acquaintance as civilly as possible."

"Sounds smart," I assent, even though I have my doubts about how civil Zimri will be with _anyone_, regardless of their own behavior. But there's the faintest trace of an Orlesian accent in Seth's voice, and I wonder if just maybe a common country of origin will soften his attitude toward the man.

So we follow his plan. I show them to the three best guest rooms-still in reasonably good condition from the templars' visit-and give directions to the dining hall.

"We're going to be eating soon," I explain. "After that I can introduce you to Zimri."

"Sounds good," Seth nods. "See you at dinner, then, Commander." The three all step inside their rooms.

"Oh, Declan, could I talk to you for a minute?" I ask the warrior hastily before he can shut his door.

He shrugs, nods. "If y' don't mind me takin' off m' armor while we talk, et's fine with me, Rahna." He holds the door open and bows in playful courtesy as I walk in. "What didja wish t' talk abou', Commander?"

I don't chastise the return to formality; Sigrun still calls me Commander all the time, and Nate switches back and forth. "Just wonderin' what sort of warrior y'are. Weapons of choice, fighting style, any special abilities; things like that. So I can figure how you'll fit in here."

"Well, my weapon o' choice es a sword an' shield, as fer my fightin' style, I prefer tae wade ento th' theck of things an' tough out eny damage mah foes might attempt," he explains, shucking his gauntlets and working the buckles on his heavy plate armor. "Tha's why m' armor es s'heavy; tae let me take more punishment."

"I see." I nod and reach to help with some of the harder to reach buckles. "Any special talents or training?"

"Thank yeh, and yes. I'm a bloody decent healer, an' I spent a few years as a templar b'fore a Warden recruiter came through the town an' I showed hem wha' I ken do an' asked tae join."

"Templar, huh? My success rate with templar-trained Wardens isn't the greatest right now," I elaborate, helping to remove the pauldrons.

"I meant et when I said I left any biases at m' Joinin'," Declan replies solemnly. "I'll no' mistreat mages simply fer bein' mages. The First Warden figured m'... talents would come en handy aginst emissaries, tha's all."

"I'll take your word for it," I comment, watching him as he finishes removing the armor and rolls his shoulders in relief at the decrease in weight before he gets to work on the boots. "I get the sense I can trust you." _Despite my absolutely horrible experience with the last two templars-Wardens through here..._ I can't help thinking, blood boiling at the mere thought of Rolan and Zimri.

"Thank yeh fer yer trust." Declan cocks a wry grin in my direction. "And fer yer help. Woulda taken me forever tae get out o' tha' alone."

"Not a problem," I laugh. "I know how... difficult plate armor can be. I'll leave you to settle in now, and see you at dinner, yeah?"

"Definitely," he replies swiftly. "I'm starved."

I chuckle at his alacrity as I depart, pulling the door closed behind me.

**oOo**

Dinner is _fun. _I sit with Jowan and the two of us manage to choke down a decent amount of Cook's to-die-for meat pie around running commentary on the small army of women gravitating toward Declan. Seth, it seems, is a gifted storyteller and has a decent audience of his own, but it's nothing to compare to the crowd surrounding our newest warrior.

"It's the accent," Jowan comments, chuckling as he watches Declan attempt to deal with his bevy of newfound admirers. "That's gonna be a blessing and a curse for him over the next few weeks."

"Oh, don't forget the hair," I laugh, perching sideways on the bench with my back against Jowan's shoulder. "Strawberry blond and _just_ long enough t' get back in a ponytail if he should need to? 'S all the rage. Personally, I like longer ponytails, somethin' you can tug."

"I _know_," Jowan deadpans, tweaking the end of _my_ ponytail.

"Hey!" I swat his hand away-too late, as usual-and turn my attention back to Declan. "Poor bastard. Hope the ladies remember to let him breathe every once in a while."

"Don't you think you should rescue the poor man, Rahna?" the mage points out with a laugh.

I sigh, gulp down the last bite of my dinner. "S'ppose I should..." I swing my legs down off the bench and stand. I have to shove my way past the off-duty militia and at least one of Cook's assisstants to reach him. "Sorry, ladies, clear off. I need Ser Declan here for some offical Warden business."

They disperse with groans of disappointment, but Declan shoots me a relieved look. "My _eternal_ gratitude, Rahna. Surely yeh are a saint second only to Andraste Herself."

"Heh, I'm fairly sure there are some who would disagree with you on that," I chuckle sheepishly, shooting a glance back at where Jowan's still eating. "But you're welcome. And I really do need you for Warden business. Zimri, remember?"

"Ah, yes." He nods, taking a last swig from his mug of ale, and motions Seth and Christopher to join us as we leave.

"Can I ask you something?" I probe as we wait for them to cross the room. He nods assent. "How come Christopher doesn't talk?"

"Och, he talks, but only on occasions rare as snow on Summerday," Declan chuckles. "And only tae people he trusts implicitly. Like Seth."

"Ah, I see." I nod understanding as the two join us. "Ready to meet Zimri?"

Christopher nods and Seth mirrors the action with an added "Aye, Commander."

"Then let's get this over with," I sigh. I'm not particularly looking forward to interacting with Zimri, especially considering the way our last exchange ended. But not everything in life can be nice or easy, and if he's _really_ horrible, I can always go vent to Jowan.

"Refresh my memory, Commander; what did he _do_ exactly?" Seth questions. "We were only given vague details."

"He and another Warden with strong templar biases, Rolan, conspired to hand one of my mages over to the templars for being an apostate. And I have it from Zimri's own lips that had my other mages been here at the time, he would have handed them over as well." Just thinking about it sets my teeth on edge again.

"If there were two involved, why is Zimri the only one facing punishment?" Seth presses.

"Something... attacked just as Rolan and Anders encountered the templars. We..." I swallow a mouthful of bile. "We didn't find any survivors. The Warden I'd left in charge at the time knew Zimri was at least partly to blame."

"Where is this Warden now?"

"She's... on leave, in the city. My second in command has family there he wanted to visit, and I didn't think it wise for him to travel alone. So I let her go with him," I explain.

Seth sighs in mild frustration. "Damn. Would have been nice to talk to her."

"And I apologize for that. I was thinking they would be back before any response to my letter arrived. Ah, here we are." We've reached Zimri's room as we talked, and I now brace myself to deal with the man again. "Zimri?" I knock. "Can we come in?"

"If you must," comes the reluctant and somewhat surly reply.

I turn the knob and open the door. The warrior is slouched in a chair in the corner, book in hand. "Glad to see you're keeping yourself occupied, Ser Caron."

He snorts. "Spare me the pleasantries, _Commandant_. There has been little else for me to do over the past _month_."

"If you played more nicely with others, I might've been more willing to let you mingle," I reply, trying to stay civil since there's other people around.

He mutters something under his breath. "And these three are...?" An accusatory eyebrow arches as he regards Declan and the others.

"Ah, forgive me." I introduce them quickly.

"And they are here for what reason, exactly? So you can show off what you do to people who disagree with you?"

"Not at all," I grin at him, catlike. "You're getting your wish, ser. You are no longer going to be stationed here with all the mages and elves and other people I'm sure you've found reasons to hate. You get to go back to Weisshaupt and explain to the First Warden why you were willing to sell out a brother-in-arms. Seth and Christopher are going to make sure nothing happens to you on the journey out there, and Declan's gonna stay here so my garrison still has a decent number of warriors."

Zimri sniffs in disdain and glances at the men. "So, the _chienne_ has you buying her lies now, too?"

Christopher stiffens and whispers something to Seth.

The taller man's jaw clenches. "I've found, ser, that men with a worthwhile case do not resort to insulting their commanders in such a manner. If you expect _any_ sympathy for your side of the story when we reach Weisshaupt, I would advise against calling the Hero of Ferelden-and your commanding officer-such crude names. We'll be leaving at first light. I _strongly_ encourage you to have anything packed that you wish to take along by then. The journey is an arduous one and I'd rather have it behind me as soon as possible." He turns to me. "I think we've had a sufficient introduction, Commander. We can leave him to it now."

I'm cheering wildly inside at th dressing down this soft-spoken Warden gave my biggest headache in recent memory as I nod. "Of course."

Once we've withdrawn from the room and the door is closed behind us, Declan lets out a low whistle. "Has he always been s' bad?"

"Worse at times," I admit.

"Then yeh have my everlastin' respect for no' partin' th' bastard from hes head," he comments. "Right piece o' work, tha' one."

"I couldn't agree more," I chuckle. "For now, I'll let you rest up." I give Seth and Christopher an apologetic smile."I think you'll need it..."

I take my leave and head for my room with wry declarations of thanks humming in my ears.

_A/N: And my headcanon that everyone in Starkhaven has Scottish accents bleeds into yet another universe. xD That's just me providing fanservice to... well, myself and anybody else who likes that particular accent. *giggle* In all seriousness though, Declan is pretty cool in my head(despite being a templar), and I can hardly wait for you guys to see some of the stuff I have planned involving him. :3 I hope his brogue is A)realistic and B) not so thick you can't tell what he's saying(let me know if it is, and I'll make adjustments...). Also, yay puppies! 8D Can't wait for Nate to get back so Rahna can try to 'splain things to him. *evil laugh*_


	14. Nightmare

14. Nightmare

True to his word, Seth is up and rousting Christopher and Zimri out of bed at the day's first light. Thanks to a rough night and some bad dreams I don't really wanna think about, I'm awake to see them off.

Zimri is grumbling, as usual. I'd swear that man looks for reasons to be unhappy with any circumstances he finds himself in. Christopher looks annoyed at the thought of putting up with him for the entire trip to Weisshaupt.

"You can always gag him if he gets too bad," I whisper.

Christopher smiles and shrugs, as if saying he wouldn't rule it out.

Much as I like Seth and Christopher, I can't help feeling elated as the trio takes to the road and ever so gradually disappears from sight. Zimri is gone. He's not one of the best feelings in the world, like a weight's been lifted from my shoulders. And I feel no shame whatsoever for this attitude. Now all I need is for Nate and Sigrun to get back and life will be pretty much perfect.

Assuming, of course, that Declan can get along with everyone. But given his easygoing disposition and promise that he's left behind any possible biases, I'm hopeful that he will.

Since hardly anyone else is awake at this hour and they're all on duty, there's not really anybody I can talk to. So I wander down to the kitchens and make off with a bowl of porridge. I head out to the stables to sit with the mabari, food for me in one hand and treats for them in the other. That's how I plan to distract them if they start eyeballing my breakfast. I know it'll only work for a minute or two at the most, but that's okay. I'm a quick eater, I can bolt down a fair quantity of food in a minute or two.

Fade greets me with a happy bark and pins my shoulders against the wall to give me slobbery dog kisses.

"Oof, Fade, no! Down, boy!" Normally I'm more receptive to his tongue-bath greetings. But normally my hands aren't full. Despite my protests, Fade continues licking for another minute or so before dropping back to all fours. "Gee, you'd think I hadn't visited you in _months_, you big baby," I tease, setting down my bowl on a ledge so that I can scratch him between the ears.

He replies with an enthusiastic 'wuff' and wags his stumpy tail before heading back to Honey's side. I can see _her_ tail wagging as well, but with four greedy pups attached to her belly at the moment, she can't very well get up and come say hello.

"Hey, girl. How're you today?" I cross the room and scratch under her chin before settling against one of the support posts nearby. I'm sort of wishing I'd remembered to grab my book on the way out here. Despite the chill outdoors, the stable is nice and warm. Very comfortable. I eat in silence, pretending not to notice my thoroughly _un_stealthy dog sidling ever closer as the smell of food drives him crazy. Finally he's close enough for me to see the pleading look in those huge brown eyes.

"Oh, you big baby," I laugh, tossing him one of the treats. Honey lets out a whine of protest and I lob her the other one. She catches it delicately, hardly disrupting her nursing puppies.

Fade shows his gratitude by creeping closer and resting his head in my lap. I indulge him, scratching everywhere my hand can reach while I finish eating. Once the last of the porridge is gone, I lean my head back against the beam, my movements slowing as I continue to pet Fade. This is very relaxing and I can feel myself drifting off. For a moment, I remember the nightmares that plagued me last night and don't want to risk them again, but my lack of sleep has left me too tired to resist. The last thing I notice before sleep takes me is Fade nosing at my hand because I've stopped petting him.

**oOo**

_It's dark. The kind that sits so heavy you can feel it weighing on you, pressing your skin. I can hardly see anything, and what I do see doesn't look familiar-_

_ No. Wait. The dimly visible framework off to my left... That's Morrigan's shelter from our camp. But where's her fire? Or the main fire, or the people, my __**friends**__, for that matter?_

_ "Alistair?!" I holler, heart in my throat. "Zev?!"_

_ No answer._

_ "Anybody here?! Wynne? Leli?"_

_ Silence._

_ That's when the unease shifts to fear. "__**Alistair!**__"_

_ It shouldn't be this quiet, shouldn't be so dark. I move forward, intending to check the tents, see if they just all went to bed, but trip over something. When I instinctively look to see what, it's all I can do to keep silent._

_ A corpse. Human by the size, and I __**think**__ female. But its head is gone, and what remains has been burned beyond recognition._

_ "No..." I forcibly swallow the bile climbing my throat as I scraamble to my feet. Trying to ignore the __**thing**__ laying on the ground, I make a beeline for the nearest tent. And then another. And another. All of them yield the same result; corpses so mangled and burned you can barely determine race and gender. There's never enough for me to tell if these are my friends or not. Either way, I'm practically sobbing, frantic with terror by the time I reach the last tent, my final stop and last-desperate-hope. I hesitate as my fingers brush the tent flap, and that's when I hear the voice._

_**I will find you. And I will break you, **_**Warden**_._

_ I jerk back with a whimper before forcing myself to keep going. I have to see. Have to know. Shaking fingers curl against canvas and hold the tent flap back long enough for me to enter._

Trapped, trapped, no way out,_ my brain jangles. _Hunted and trapped with no. Way. Out._ I try to ignore it but don't have much luck, as there's another corpse laying ing the middle of the tent. This one-human and male, I note-hasn't been decapitated, and I roll it over to see if it's recogninazble._

_ He is. And I can't think._

_ As I crouch there, hyperventilating, crying, trying to __**process**__, I feel a presence loom up beside me. I spin to face it, losing my balance, determined to go down swinging-_

**oOo**

-and feel a warm hand settle around my wrist.

"Rahna! Rahna, _wake up_!" The grip only tightens as I try to pull away, still in my dream and fighting enemies I can't see to avenge deaths I couldn't prevent.

"Let go! I have to... H-He can't be..." I pull harder against the restraining grasp, still disoriented and not quite seeing the real world yet.

"Rahna, it's okay. You were dreaming." Jowan's face comes into focus, expression more worried than I've seen since our fight with the Crows.

I lurch forward with a half-strangled sob, burying my face against his chest and digging my fingers into his shirt. He's here, he's real, he's tangible evidence that nightmare was just that: a nightmare, and nothing more.

"Shh." The mage's arms circle my shoulders and hold me close, both of us sitting in silence for a long moment. Jowan _knows_, I realize as I feel reality set it and my heart rate return to normal. He knows what nightmares feel like. He knows the fear, the helplessness. He would know how much it helps to have a reminder of what's _real_.

This realization makes me hold on just a little bit tighter, and I feel his arms tighten around my shoulders in response. He doesn't let go until I do.

"Thank you," I whisper, clearing my throat and running my fingers through my hair.

"Don't mention it. You okay?" He still looks concerned.

I nod, moving one hand to rest on Fade's head in order to calm him down. "Just a bad dream..."

Jowan lets out a small, wry laugh. "I could tell that much, Rahna. Is it one you need to talk about, or one you'd just as soon forget?"

It's my turn for the wry laugh. "Both, if I'm honest."

"Well, I can listen and then never mention it again," he offers, sitting next to me close enough that our shoulders touch. The anchor to reality is appreciated, even more when I realize he did it on purpose.

I stare at the top of Fade's head as I talk, watch my hand almost mechanically stroke the dog's fur. "It's always just the last one I recognize..." I finish in little more than a whisper. "Only him..."

"Who?" The way Jowan bites his lip immediately after asking makes me think it slipped out.

"Alistair. The others I can _guess_ from race and gender and build, but Alistair is the only one I ever truly _see_." My free hand is worrying a loose thread in the knee of my pant. "Every time..."

"How..." Jowan sighs. "Maker, you've rubbed off on me too much; I'm going to be nosy. How often do you have this dream, exactly?"

I can't help but giggle at the playful jab. "Not for months, now. But it used to be a somewhat regular occurrence. Real fun to have an archdemon promise to crush you every couple weeks, even if it was just in my head..."

He shoots me a Look. "And you badger me about _my_ bad dreams..."

I roll my eyes at the teasing. "That's because _your_ bad dreams are over something that happened, what, two years ago? that you can't do a _damn_ thing to fix, no matter how badly you want to. Mine directly related to being in charge, keeping my friends safe, and killing the archdemon. There's a _teensy_ bit of difference there, silly." I nudge him with my elbow. "But enough about bad dreams. What're you doin' out here in the first place? You're the furthest thing from a morning person I've ever seen."

"Heh, you're telling me," he laughs. "I wanted to see the puppies, and I was hopin' you'd be out here so we could get a chance to talk. Feels like we only see each other in passing or at meals now. Or when you do something crazy and need me to patch you up," he teases, nudging me back.

"Ah. And then I go and have a silly bad dreams and make our entire conversation no fun," I tease.

"Yeah. Thanks for that."

I huff in exasperation and poke his shoulder. "It's not like I did it on purpose, you goose. Oh, and speaking of the puppies, didya look at them yet?"

Jowan shakes his head. "Too busy saving my crazy best friend from her nightmares."

"My hero," I snark, giggling. "Go look at the puppies. Just a warning; Lucy's the only one Honey will actually let _touch_ them."

He nods. "Got it. Wouldn't want to lose a hand..."

There are so many smart remarks I could make to that, I can't decide which to use and wind up keeping my mouth shut 'til we get back to the keep.

Duty calls, and I have Commander-type things to do.

**oOo**

The first thing on that list winds up being a meeting with Voldrik. Apparently, we're to a point in the rebuilding process where we can either do exactly the same thing-"only better", Voldrik assures me-or design things... differently. The dwarf has drawing of all the options, four total, with pros and cons listed on each. He leaves them for me to look over. I'm incredibly tempted to pass _this_ choice off to Varel. He's been here longer, been _military_ longer, and would know far better than I would. But I'm the commander, and this is technically my fortress-for the moment, at least. So I'll figure it out. Eventually.

_A/N: Ergh, sorry for the slightly short chapter. I had a really bad cold last week and Wednesday was my worst day. So the day I usually do most of my writing, I was too miserable to get more than half a page written and had to make it all up on Thursday and Friday. :I But it's done. Hopefully next week will be better. There will be Declan fairly early in the chapter, I do know that much. :3_


	15. Homecoming

15. Homecoming

It takes me a few _hours_ of back and forth, weighing pros and cons before I even narrow my fortress design choices down to two. I am no good at thinking like a tactician or a general or... well, someone who would have to defend a fort. I'm far more used to leading a small team into the thick of things than worrying about an entire bloody _fortress_.

By now, I've been staring at the two designs long enough they're blurring together in my head. I decide it can't hurt to ask Varel for his opinion, can it? I'll still be making the decision, but a good commander makes informed choices, and the seneschal would have some valuable input.

But first, lunch. It's been _ages_ since that bowl of porridge I had for breakfast. Long enough that I would be ravenous even if I _wasn't_ a Warden.

I push back from my desk and head for the kitchen-only to almost run into Declan as I round the corner at the end of the hall.

"Whoops, sorry, Commander," he chuckles, side-stepping to avoid the imminent collision. "Suppose tha's what I get fer walkin' s' close tae the' wall."

"I wasn't exactly payin' attention either, Declan," I point out with a smile. "Did you need something?"

"I did want tae talk tae yeh abou' somethin', Commander, but et ken wait ef yer busy."

"Just getting food," I reply. "You'd never believe how much of an appetite you can work up doin' paperwork."

He laughs. "Och, I b'lieve yeh. There's a reason I'm powerful glad I'm _no'_ the one en charge."

"Ah, the truth comes out," I tease. "Any other dastardly secrets I should know?"

"None come tae mind," he grins. "I'm no' the type fer nefarious plans, Rahna."

"Very comforting. You're welcome t' walk with me, if whatever you wanted to talk about isn't private."

Declan sighs and makes a face. "No' so much _private_ as slightly embarrassin'," he admits as we begin walking toward the kitchen. "I... do the militia stare at _all_ of yer new Wardens?"

I can't help laughing. "No. They don't. Nate drew some stares on account of being a Howe, Velanna and Jerin did because they're Dalish, but I think the stares _you're_ getting are for a different reason entirely, Ser Raenyr."

He groans. "I was afraid yeh were gonna set tha'. It's no' what I wanted tae hear."

I offer an apologetic smile. "Give it a month or so, do your best to fit in, and they _might_ leave you alone."

"Also no' what I wanted to hear," Declan mutters with a wry smile.

I shrug. "Sorry. At least they're staring at you because they think you're hot, rather than because they think you don't belong. You, my friend, are an object of _desire_, not an object of _scorn_. I know that doesn't help much, but maybe it'll help a little."

"Aye," he chuckles. "Perspective's nice. I just... I was stationed at Ostwick after I joined the Wardens. My accent's no' a novelty there, s'close tae Starkhaven. An' I didn't really stay long at Weisshaupt after my... promotion. I'm not used tae bein' stared at."

"Give it time," I offer with a consolatory smile. "Either they'll stop or you'll learn to ignore it."

"I hope yer right," he mutters as we reach the dinig hall. "I'll go mad otherwise."

"Can't have that," I laugh, waving to Jowan when he catches sight of me from across the room. "I need you sane for your job."

He laughs as well. "I'll do m'best. Fer now, I'll leave yeh tae yer business. Enjoy yer food."

"Wait, you aren't eating? Aren't you hungry?" I've never met a Warden who wasn't.

Declan's stomach growls, though whether in response to my question or the aroma wafting out of the kitchen, I can't be sure.

"Hah, I knew it!" I crow. "C'mon, get some food. You can sit with me an' Jowan. With any luck, _They_ will see you're occupied and leave you alone."

"Tha' es a mighty temptin' offer..." He mulls it over for all of two seconds before nodding. "Why no'? Et's worth a try at least, aye?"

"That's the spirit," I rib, leading the way into the kitchen.

**oOo**

When we exit and cross the half-full dining hall a few minutes later, both Declan and I are juggling _huge_ bowls of chicken soup, a couple rolls each, and a mug of apple cider. I'm halfway convinced I'm going to drop something before we reach Jowan's spot, and more than a little surprised when I don't.

"Maker, you eat slow," I tease as I sit down across from the mage. This being one of the smaller table in the hall, it means Declan _has_ to sit next to one of us now, rather than an empty seat, and there won't be room for any of the half-dozen militia eyeing him to crowd around.

"I was waiting for you," Jowan shoots back. "And some of us like to actually _taste_ our food."

"Oh, shut up!" I demand, kicking his shin under the table.

He just grins at me. "You eat fast, Rahna."

"I'm a growing girl?" I try.

"I... I'm going to be nice and let that one slide."

"Your shins will thank you for that decision," I giggle around a mouthful of roll and soup.

"Es she always like thes?" Declan asks Jowan.

The mage shakes his head. "Only around me."

"And Nate!" I add in protest. "I'm goofy and childish with him too. 'Cause you two are the ones who need to lighten up."

"We're also the ones who'll calm you down if you start getting too silly," he shoots back. "Glad to see that nightmare didn't mess you up too badly."

"Eh..." I wave off his concern. "I get that one when the pressure of command starts getting to me. It's scary, sure, but easier to shrug off now that I know the Blight's done. And I thought _you_ promised not to mention it again."

To his credit, Jowan looks chagrined. "Sorry. I forgot."

"S'alright. I'll bet you're real busy right now. That's an easy thing to have slip your mind when you're takin' care of colds an' sprained wrists an' the occasional broken bone."

Declan raises an eyebrow. "Are you a healer, then?"

Jowan nods. "Well, mage. But I'm the best we have with Anders gone. Oh, Rahna, have you heard from Sigrun at all?"

I shake my head. "I hope they come back soon. I'm _itching_ to tell Nate about the puppies, and I miss 'em."

Jowan laughs. "Nice priorities there, boss."

I stick my tongue out at him. "Just... be quiet would you? Eat soup."

The rest of the meal passes full of playful banter, teasing, and me threatening a time or two to throw something at Jowan. He counters that he knows I _won't_, because the only thing at hand is my rolls, which would just end with _him _eating them rather than me.

I splutter indignantly for a moment or two before kicking his shin again.

**oOo**

It's late afternoon before I get another interruption. Varel and I are discussing which of the two options remaining would be a better design for the walls, a task I roped him into rather reluctantly on both parts, when someone knocks on the door.

"Come in, " I call, looking up from the schematics, which were beginning to double and blur anyway.

The door swings open and Velanna leans in. "Commander, I- the others thought you might wish to know that they're back."

"They- Nate and the others?" I demand, already shoving my chair out of the way with one foot.

The elf nods. "Yes. Them. If you need me, I'll be in the library."

I raise an eyebrow at her indifference, but she wasn't terribly close to Nathaniel or Sigrun, so I suppose it makes sense. I, on the other hand, am _very_ close to both of them.

"Time for a break?" Varel chuckles.

"I'd say so," I agree, already moving toward the door. I don't have far to go, as I encounter Sigrun in the hall.

"Hey, Commander," she grins. "Somebody already spill the beans about us bein' back?"

I nod. "Velanna, of all people, actually. Did you find out anything?"

"I assume you mean about Anders and _not_ the fact Cor talks in his sleep and is sweet on Ara?"

I blink at her for a second before laughing. "Yes, that was what I meant..."

"I'll tell you later, Commander," she side-steps. "You prob'ly wanna say hello to Nathaniel, interrogate him about Vi and all that good stuff..."

"See, Sig, the mere fact you're tryin' to dodge makes me think I should just get it over with."

She winces. "Fine... Can we, um, do this in private, though?"

I nod. "Of course." The two of us duck into my office and I shut the door behind us. "So, did you find anything?"

Sigrun hesitates, sighs. "I... yes and no, Commander."

"Do tell?"

She explains about the bartender stonewalling her, all the other dead-ends she hit, and then gets to meeting Marra Carrath and her parents. "Saul was a huge help; he had contacts at the docks we talked to, a whole bunch of people who owed him favors, the works."

"And?" I prompt.

"A couple of dock workers _maybe_ saw Anders get on a ship, but the don't know where it was goin' and couldn't remember the name."

"Dammit," I mutter. "Not your fault, Sig. But _maybe_?"

She shrugs. "They sounded _mostly_ sure, but admitted there was room for doubt. But it was a blond man with an earring, so..."

"It's a decently safe bet Anders isn't in Ferelden anymore," I finish. "But we don't know where he went."

"Sounds like that's the way he wants it, Commander," Sigrun points out.

I sigh. "That almost scares me more than the other options, Sig. But thanks for checking."

"Oh, no problem," she replies with a half-smile. "I needed _something_ to do while Nathaniel was busy with his new girlfriend. And his sister. But I think it was mostly the girlfriend."

I laugh at that. "Alright, now I _have_ to interrogate him."

"Damn straight," the dwarf giggles. "Have fun. I'm gonna track down Jowan an' see if he can do anything about the knots in my back from three nights on the ground."

"He's prob'ly in the infirmary," I tell her. "He's had enough to do he hasn't managed to really _leave_."

"Right, thanks, I'll check there first." I chuckle as she heads for the door and she spins back around. "What?"

"What happened to dwarves being magic-resistant?"

She shrugs. "Just 'cause it doesn't work on the big stuff is no reason not to hope for help with the little things. And maybe he'll know something non-magical that can help if it doesn't."

"If you say so..." I mutter as we go our separate ways.

**oOo**

"Hey, Nate. Welcome back."

The archer's head snaps up from the bag he's unpacking at my greeting. "Rahna. Didn't you ever learn to knock?"

I grin and deliberately rap my knuckles against the door frame. "Permission to enter, ser?"

He offers a wry smile. "Even though I'm fairly sure I'll regret this rather fast, permission granted."

My grin widens as I enter the room. "So, how'd it go with Vi?"

"How did I know those would be among the first words out of your mouth?" Nathaniel chuckles, moving to return clothes to where they belong.

"We've been friends long enough for you to pick up on my irrepressibly curious nature?" I offer.

"That would take all of five seconds. And things went just fine with Vi."

"How fine?" I demand. "Give me details, Nate."

"It honestly wasn't that exciting, Rahna," he protests, tucking the now-empty backpack under his bed.

"I don't _care_. Tell me everything. Or, at least everything you feel comfortable telling me."

Nathaniel sighs and sits on the edge of his bed, busying his hands with a whetstone and dagger, even though the blade looks plenty sharp to me. "There really isn't much to tell, Commander. One of the first nights I was there she asked about the queen's wedding, and in the course of of the conversation, I let her know my intentions."

"And... what _were_ your intentions?" I probe.

He just gives me a Look. "You know the answer to that."

I grin impishly. "Just checking. 'Bout time you made it official."

He waves off my teasing. "Yes, yes, I know. After that, our conversations were a mix of getting to know each other and me explaining some of the... limitations my being a Wardens will place on our relationship."

"Hope you didn't overwhelm the poor girl," I chuckle. "It's a pretty daunting list."

"I only mentioned the most important ones," Nate replies. "The ones I figures would place the most strain on things between us. Potentially."

"Ah, like the secrecy and having to go where they send you _when_ they send you?"

He nods. "Pretty much just those for now, yes."

"Smart. You can ease into the other things once the need arises," I mutter. "And are Delilah and Albert doin' alright?"

Another nod. "Delilah's just starting to show, which means Albert is coddling her far more than she needs." One corner of Nathaniel's mouth lifts in a wry smile. "It's a testament to how much she loves him that she's not protesting more."

"Aw, that's sweet," I smile. "From what I've seen, she deserves to be coddled a little."

"She does," he agrees. "but getting _her_ to admit that is much easier said than done.

"I imagine so. She didn't seem to like slowing down and taking it easy."

Nathaniel chuckles. "Life with Albert has been good to her, but I think it's created an insatiable need to be busy."

"Some people are like that," I shrug. "But I'll get out of your hair now. I'm sure you have things you wanna do. Go say hello to your dog an' everything..."

"I probably should, but why are you so giddy about that prospect?" he asks suspiciously.

"No reason," I reply, trying to wipe away any incriminating expression off my face.

"Rahna." Nathaniel gives me a _Not Buying It_ look to rival Jowan's.

"Oh, blast it..." I sigh. "Just... you'll see when you get out there. Trust me."

"Alright, my curiosity is sufficiently piqued," he mutters, standing and depositing dagger and whetstone on the bedside table. "You're coming with me."

_You bet I am,_ I smirk to myself as I follow him out to the stables. _I wouldn't miss reaction for the __**world**_.

**oOo**

It's _so_ worth it. He isn't quite speechless, but he's close enough it makes me laugh.

"How..." The question trails off and he shakes his head.

"Oh, come on, Nate," I tease. "You're a big boy. _Surely_ you know where babies comes from."

He rolls his eyes at me and sighs in exasperation. "No, I mean..." His gaze drifts back to the puppies curled up in a pile against Honey's belly. "_When_, I suppose is the better question."

Honey, who had been drowsing with her offspring, perk up at the sound of her human's voice. She jumps up to greet him, accidentally upsetting the precarious heap of puppies, who all start protesting their rude awakening. Tail still wagging non-stop, she nudges them back into their former position and returns her attention to Nathaniel.

Once the puppies have quieted down, I answer Nathaniel's question. "Best Lucy-the resident mabari expert-can figure, it was while we were in Denerim."

"Mmm." He nods, scratching Honey under the chin until she whines in pleasure, her ears folding back against her skull. "Good girl," he whispers.

Honey _wuffs_ contentedly before sidling back over to her puppies.

"Any more surprises?" Nathaniel asks, standing.

I shrug. "Zimri's gone and we have a new warrior from Starkhaven I need to introduce you to. But that's all."

"Oh. That's all," he parrots back with a wry smile.

I grin impishly. "Hey, you know what life's like with me around. Welcome back."

I can just _tell_ he's biting back some smart remark as we return to the keep.

_A/N: Ahhh... it's good to have everyone back. :3 And all the bantering... I love my muses. *giggle* And poor Declan with his fangirls. I hope for the sake of his sanity they do lay off soon. Oh, yes, speaking of Declan, fun fact: he looks like Dean O'Gorman(better known as Fili, just minus the beard and with shorter hair :3)_


	16. Sure You Will

16. Sure You Will

"You sure that's the best you can do?" Sigrun tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice and rolled her shoulders, still feeling twinges in her back from knotted muscles.

"Sorry," Jowan shrugged apologetically. "Between your natural resistance to magic and the fact I'm far from the best at healing, yeah. That's the best I can do."

"What's the problem, then?" Declan asked, leaning against the wall just inside the door, almost as if hiding from someone. This being _Declan_, Jowan figured he probably _was_.

"Sleepin' in a real bed's made me soft," Sigrun explained cheerily. "So I go an' spend three nights on the road and get more knots in my back than a noble's beard."

"Any tension in yer life tha' might be contributin'?" the warrior asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, not really." The dwarf hopped down off the table. "Well, except knowing I nearly got one of my friends killed an' now he's run off to Stone only knows where."

"Ah. I'll no' ask for details," Declan smiled. "Soun's like somethin' best left tae lie."

"'Preciate it," Sigrun smiled back. "You must be Zimri's replacement, yeah? I'm Sigrun."

"Declan Raenyr, at yer service."

"If you know how to get kinks out of a girl's spine, I may just take you up on that offer," the rogue winked.

Declan smile widened. "Actually, I'm willin' tae see wha' I ken do, ef yeh like. I know some women have understandable reservations abou' bein' touched by a man they jest met."

Sigrun shrugged. "I got the impression the Commander likes you. And if she likes you, that means she trusts you. And that's good enough for me. So, are you a healer, too?"

"Aye. Lackin' the... added assistance of magic, but yer bein' a dwarf, I don't see tha' matterin' much."

"Yeah, already tried magic. Didn't work," Sigrun replied. "So let's see what you can do."

"Tha's a lo' a faith tae place en me jest based on the fact yer commander trusts me," Declan commented as Sigrun clambered back up on the table.

"It's not _just_ that," Sigrun corrected with a grin. "I also figure if you try anything, Jowan can roast you alive."

Warrior and mage traded grins. "You've certainly covered all yer bases," Declan chuckled.

"Habit I picked up in Dust Town. Get goin', handsome," she winked.

"As yeh wish, m'lady," the warrior laughed.

"Oooh, never been m'lady-ed before. I hope we keep you around for awhile."

"I think tha's the plan," he replied, grinning as he gently rested calloused hands on the dwarf's shoulders and began working out the kinks.

**oOo**

It's quiet around here. Almost too quiet, in my opinion. But that may just be because I'm still not used to it being anything less than chaotically busy. I'm so used to having something I'm working on or waiting for now that I don't have either-not to mention the lack of saving-the-world-quests-I'm downright bored. So much so that I can't concentrate on my paperwork and the other, more banal duties that come with my post. I did, however, manage to make up my mind regarding the wall design, and it's during my current search for Voldrik that I'm realizing how bloody quiet it is around this place.

As I walk the circumference of the wall, wondering if the dwarf is somewhere up there, I catch sight of Jerin, bow and arrows in hand, heading toward the archery range. "Didn't realize you were an archer too, Mahariel."

His head snaps in my direction. "C'mmander. Didn't see ya there. I'm primarily a warrior, but all Dalish learn how t' at least _use_ a bow, and even if they're never more than decent."

"Are you?" I ask. He sure seems comfortable touting the weapon.

"Am I what?"

"Better than decent."

"Aye." He nods. "Not th' best archer in m' clan, but I wager I'm better than anythin' a shemlen can pull off."

_That's_ when the pieces click together. "Tell me you didn't challenge Nate to some sort of test to see which is better."

"I'd be lyin' if I did," he replies. "I hear from the militia this friend of yours is th' best archer at the Vigil. Jus' wanted to see if that's still true."

"And he agreed to this?" I know Nathaniel hasn't had a chance to so much as practice for at least a month. He's going to be rusty, and I can't imagine him agreeing to... something like this without being in top form.

Jerin shrugs. "Aye. Surprised me too, him bein' out a' practice an' all."

"So, are you two judging this for yourselves or didya get someone else t' do it?"

"A couple a' militia are goin' t' watch, as is Velanna. Anythin' that looks close, we'll ask them."

"Sounds like a plan," I nod. "Good luck." _You'll need it against Nathaniel..._

He thanks me and continues on his way. I'm going to be very curious as to the outcome of this competition. Normally, there wouldn't be a shadow of a doubt in my mind that Nathaniel could win, easy. But him being out of practice... I still think he can win, it's just a little more dubious now.

That, however, can be worried about later. Right now I need to find Voldrik. And then I might stop by the barracks, see how Cor's visit with his mother went. I know I don't _have_ to, since he's militia and not a Warden, but I'm curious. Pluse, I know Varel's too busy to do it, badly as he might want to.

I finally find Voldrik, show him which of the designs I want to use, and leave him to plan as I head for the barracks.

**oOo**

I've barely made it through the door before a familiar blur of sandy fur is wrapping himself around my ankles.

"Pounce?" I frown in confusion as I crouch to pet the tabby, feeling a sharp pang twinge my heart. "I thought you were living with Delilah?"

"Apparently, her husband is rather allergic," Cor explains, entering the front hall and leaning against the doorframe. Pounce abandons me and shoots over to the guard captain, purring loudly as he rubs against the young man's ankles "She had to give him back, and he took a liking to me, for some reason."

"Maybe he likes blonds," I chuckle.

Cor shrugs. "Delilah did say he seemed to have a special attachment to Albert. Which, given the severity of the poor man's allergy, never ended well. She couldn't keep them apart, but didn't want to give the cat to just anyone. I gather he's special somehow?"

"He was Anders' cat," I explain quietly, deciding against mentioning his other 'special' traits. "Sentimentality and all that."

"I see," he nods. "makes sense. But you must've come down here for a reason, Commander. What can I do for you?"

"Oh." I shrug. "Just wanted to check in, see how your visit with your mother went. Figured I could pass it along to the seneschal, since he's currently neck deep in paperwork."

"Ah, that." The smile that curves his lips makes me think the news it good. "Lots of catching up, her being a busybody about my love life; normal parent-child conversation. One of her neighbors made sure to get her to the chantry when the darkspawn attacked, so she was quite safe."

"Glad to hear it," I grin. "And I'm sure Varel will be too."

"Heh, yes, I'm sure. He worries about us too much."

I shrug, looking up at him. "From what I hear, it's quite possible he sees you as the son he never had. I know he cares about you an awful lot."

"Mmm, I'm sure you're right," Cor nods contemplatively. "I loved my father, Commander, but I am both honored by and extremely gratful for the way the seneschal has stepped in to fill that void as best he can."

"He's a good man, " I agree. "One I am eternally grateful to have on my side. As are you."

He waves off the praise. "I'm no better than anyone else here, Commander."

"I know. And given the... depravity of the previous arl, I find that a pleasant surprise."

"Most of the Howe loyalists deserted after you killed him," Cor explains. "Seneschal Varel was the one to pick their replacements."

"See? Invaluable. The both of you."

"Still not seein' what makes me compare to Varel, but if you say so..." he shrugs.

"I do. It may still be just raw potential at this point, sure, but with him as a mentor and role model, I think you'll do fine," I insist.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Commander," he smiles sheepishly. "But I'm sure you have things to do, and I need to finish unpacking, so if you don't mind, I'll take my leave now, ser."

"Oh, of course," I nod, grinning as I watch Pounce streak after his new owner like greased lightning. Cor was right; I do have things to do, and the moment I start thinking about all of it, the list brings on a headache. I groan and try to massage it away, but it's a persistent bugger.

I can't help but wonder longingly if Anders taught Jowan that spell for headaches that he was so bloody proud of before he disappeared. _Can't hurt to ask..._ I decide, and head for the infirmary.

**oOo**

I was expecting Jowan to be either bored out of his mind or busy with someone whose predicament is worse than mine, but the _last_ thing I thought I'd find is what greets me as I get closer. From the sound of it, Declan and Sigrun are in there and the three of them are trading stories. I raise an eyebrow, my headache all but forgotten as I listen to Sigrun reach the end of a tale involving two nugs, a cheese knife, and a friend of hers named Malina.

"Oh, that's _nothing_," Jowan laughs when she's finished. "I've seen Rahna drunk."

_Andraste's knickerweasels, I'm gonna __**kill**__ that mage._

"Pfff, the Commander doesn't get _drunk_," Sigrun scoffs, and I decide maybe _she's_ my new best friend.

"Ever wonder why?" I can practically see him smirking. While part of me is tempted to see how he describes that particular incident, the memory of me and Zevran in a dusty, leather-clad heap on the ground crystalizing under pressure, the part that doesn't want that night to be public knowledge wins.

"If I were you, I'd stop right there, ser mage," I comment as I enter the room, tugging on his ponytail for good measure. "'Less of course, you want a headache to rival mine," I finish sweetly.

Declan and Sig both immediately come up with half-baked excuses to vacate the room.

"For the record, I was going to say they should ask you," Jowan grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sure you were," I deadpan, internally fighting a smirk as I watch him squirm.

"Maker as my witness, Rahna, I swear," he protests, shooting me a look that pleads with me to forgive him.

"You're lucky you have such convincing puppy dog eyes, mage," I tease, grinning mischievously as he goes bright red. "And that I need t' have a healer around..."

"Yeah, you mentioned having a headache?" Jowan redirects, still looking sheepish.

"Yep, serious case of _I have too much on my plate_. Help a girl out?"

He nods. "It's the least I can do."

"Hah, you got that right," I rib, perching on the edge of the table.

Jowan sighs as he rests his hand on my forehead. "Couldn't you, I dunno, delegate some of that _too much on your plate_ to your second in command, now that he's back?"

I shrug. "In theory, sure, I _could_," I admit reluctantly. "But most of it is stuff it would just be better for me to do myself."

"Rahna." He's giving me one of Those Looks again. "Hand some of it to Nathaniel, _please_. The last thing I- we need is you burning yourself out. That will do _no one_ any good, least of all you."

I snort. "Obviously. I'll try to find some stuff I can ask Nate to take care of," I promise. "On one condition: what were you all talkin' about that you even had opportunity to _mention_ seeing me drunk?"

He shrugs. "Sigrun was here about her back, Declan was hiding from those militia women, and we just... got to talking. The subject somehow morphed into the most unbelievable thing you've ever seen."

"Well, I heard Sigrun's," I mutter. "Out of curiosity, what was Declan's?"

"He, ah, accidentally walked in on his Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter having a... liaison while he was stationed at the Starkhaven Circle."

"What is it about mages being forbidden that makes you lot so damned appealing to Chantry-types?" I laugh.

"I wish I knew," Jowan shrugs.

Too late, I think about what I just said and wince. "Maker, I'm sorry, Jowan. I wasn't thinkin'..."

"Rahna, it's alright," he assures me. "I'm... getting better about that."

"If I find out you're lying to make me feel better, I'm gonna kill you," I tease.

"Sure you will," he grins, tweaking one of my pigtails. "Now, get back to work, _boss._"

I sigh in exasperation. "Sometimes, I really hate how much Anders rubbed off on you, ya know that?"

He just smirks and shooes me toward the door. "_Go_."

I offer a one-fingered mock salute. "Yes, ser." In keeping with my promise, I need to track down Nathaniel. Again.

_A/N: I am now fairly sure that Declan and Jowan are going to wind up really, insanely good friends. Like, BROTP-type good. This pleases me, for it shall help with plottiness I have in store for... well, down the road. And I like the idea of Jowan having more good friends than just Rahna. And I promise to mention the result of Jerin and Nate's contest as early in the next chapter as I can sensibly work it in. ; )_


	17. Delegation

17. Delegation

Nathaniel proves harder to track down than usual, so I allow myself to indulge the small flare of triumph I feel when I find him in the dining hall.

"Little late for lunch, isn't it?" I tease, dropping into the seat across from him. "Or is this an early dinner?"

He shrugs. "It's more along the lines of _I'm hungry, so I don't care if it's technically meal time_."

I snicker. "Ah, I see." I bite my lip and manage to keep quiet for all of two seconds before clearing my throat. "Sooo... who won?"

Nathaniel shoots me one of his Looks. "Who w- Oh. Figures you would know about that."

"I bumped into Jerin on his way to the archery range and he told me what you two were up to."

"Knowing your curious streak, I must admit I'm a little surprised you didn't tag along to see how it went for yourself," he comments.

"I wanted to," I shrug. "But I had a very long to-do list I was trying to shorten before it grows again tomorrow."

Nathaniel chuckles. "Enjoying your role as Commander, Rahna?"

I make a face at him. "So much that I'm thinking about sharing it with you, Ser Howe."

"You're a cruel woman," he mutters dryly. "You know how I feel about politics."

"Well, since you're a cruel _man_, I figured it was only fair," I retort. "_You_ know how curious I am, and yet you _still_ haven't answered my question. Who won, Nate?"

His expression is some strange mix of smug and sheepish as he replies," Me."

I smirk. "Knew it. You're the best archer I've ever seen in my life. How'd Jerin take it?"

"Much better than I thought he would, to be honest." Nathaniel lets out a soft chuckle. "He actually seemed impressed."

I snort. "Sod, Nate, 'course he was impressed. You beat a bloody _Dalish_ at _archery_. That's like... like out-drinking Oghren or somethin'."

"No." Nathaniel shakes his head. "At least this was within the realm of possibility, if only just. I think if anyone ever tried to outdrink that dwarf they'd wind up giving themselves alcohol poisoning."

"I- concede the point," I laugh. "I gotta admit, when Jerin told me what you two were doing, I was surprised you said sad yes. I mean, you haven't practiced in a while, and normally I know you wouldn't agree to something like this if there was a chance you might be rusty."

"Maker, Rahna, it's not as if it was a match to the death," Nathaniel points out. "It was simply a test of skill between Wardens. He was rather impressive himself, considering the bow isn't his first weapon."

"Right, swords are. And I can tell you, with that, he is truly the best I've seen. I think he could take Sigrun, honestly," I comment.

Nathaniel arches an eyebrow. "Really?"

I shrug. "I've dueled him twice. First time was a draw and second he won pretty handily."

"Did you let him?"

"Why is that the first bloody question out of people's mouths when they find out?" I laugh. "Is the idea of me losing really so foreign to you all?"

"Yes," Nate deadpans. "Now answer the question, Rahna."

I sigh in exasperation. "Yes and no."

"I think that warrants some explanation." The eyebrow is arching again.

"I didn't take an opening that presented itself when he had me pinned, but Maker and Andraste as my witnesses, I think taking it would have bought me a few minutes at best."

"I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist," Nathaniel teases.

I lightly kick his shin. "Pessimism and being realistic are two different things, Howe. He was _amazing_. I'm glad you and Jowan talked me into recruiting him."

Nathaniel's eyes say _I told you so_ even if he's too nice to actually voice the words. "Was that all you'd wanted to talk about, Rahna? The archery contest?"

I sigh. "I wish. But before I get to the other thing, I want you to know it's only under protest and because I promised Jowan."

"Well, that sounds like something I'm not going to like..." Nathaniel mutters.

"You prob'ly won't," I agree. "I let something slip about having a headache because I have too much on my plate, and you know how Jowan likes to worry, 'specially about me. He asked me to, um, delegate some of that too much to my, um, second in command. So I don't wind up burnt out and having a breakdown or somethin'. I _swear_ I wouldn't give you much; just enough to take a little bit of the pressure off me so he'll stop worrying."

"Rahna, I think Oghren will spend a straight week sober before Jowan stops worrying about you. That said, he's right. We don't need you working yourself into the ground, and helping you with the things you _can_ delegate is my job. Even if I don't particularly _like_ the politics and paperwork side of things, I'll do it. Because looking out for each other is what friends _do_, and if I recall correctly, you were surprised I had any doubt we were friends."

"Alright, alright, you win!" I laugh. "Yes, we're friends, and yes, friends look out for each other. I'll get together a list of things you can help me with."

"And you put as much on there as you need to," he insists.

"I will! Maker, it's like you don't trust me or something," I tease. This comment earns me another Look.

"I know you well enough to know you'll try to to get away with giving me as little as possible," he corrects. "And, just to be clear, if I get this list of things you're delegating to me and I feel you skimped, I will track you down and make you give me more." Pale blue-grey eyes drill into mine. "Alright, _Commander_?"

"I don't wanna give you _too_ much, Nate," I protest, chewing on a hangnail. "I mean, you have a sodding _life_, and if I give you too much to do, you won't be able to write Delilah and Vi, never mind managing to _visit_."

"Rahna, aside from a token protest the first time it came up, have I _ever_ shied away from the role of second in command, however 'unofficial' you might deem it?"

"Well, no, but-"

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. "I understood the sacrifices that come with the position and decided they were acceptable."

"Nathaniel, you weren't seein' Vi when you 'unofficially' accepted the position," I feel obliged to remind him. "If you're gonna _court_ the woman, you need to be able to _visit_ every so often at least. Letters are nice, but _**nothing**_ beats getting to see your sweetheart."

"I know that, trust me," he assures me. "I will occasionally ask for leave so I can visit her. But, worrywart though he may be, I agree with Jowan on this; we don't need you burning yourself out."

"Fine, fine. I surrender. And I'll let you finish eating while I go work on that list," I rib, pushing back from the table.

"Much appreciated," Nathaniel deadpans.

I make a face at him as I leave.

**oOo**

On my way back to my room-to peruse the to-do list for things I can hand off to Nate-I hear voices as I pass the library. My curious nature overcomes the basic knowledge that eavesdropping is rude, and I find myself moving closer stealthily.

Given that he, at least, has a distinctive accent, it's not hard to figure out that the voices belong to Jerin and Velanna. What _does_ take a bit of work is figuring out what they're talking about. But after a minute or so of listening in, I can tell they're debating the finer points of one of the legends Velanna's recording in her book. It's silly little things; the color of Fen'Harel's fur when he appears as a wolf, how many times he manages to trick the other gods. Apparently, their Keepers passed down _slightly_ differing versions of the tale and now the two of them are at an impasse because both are too proud to back down.

Hoping to distract them from an admittedly silly argument, I step into the room and pretend to be looking for a book.

"Oh, Commander, can you help us settle something?" Velanna asks when she catches sight of me.

I turn to face them, trying to play innocent. "If it's anything to do with Dalish legends, sorry but no. Anything else, fire away."

The blonde's face falls. "Elgar'nan, how did you _know_?"

"Velanna, it's you and Jerin, and you're holding the journal of tales you've been writing down," I point out. "Not a big leap."

"Even if ya don't know th' tales as well as we do, C'mmander, perhaps you've heard a few of 'em told?" Jerin chips in.

"One or two," I concede, crossing my arms and leaning against the bookcase. "Once, almost two years ago."

"Was one of 'em the tale of the Dread Wolf?" he presses.

"Yesss," I reply slowly. The last thing I want is to get used by one or the other to prove a point, but I'm not going to lie, either.

"Th' tale ya heard, did it mention th' color of his fur when he manifests as a wolf?"

Dammit. "Dark grey, I think..."

"I _told_ you," he crows to Velanna.

She scowls. "I've always heard it was black."

"Look, it's not a big enough detail to change the course of the whole bloody legend, and this is _Velanna's_ record of the tales _she's_ heard, Jerin. I think it should be however she originally heard it. Besides, dark grey and black are not that different," I remind the warrior.

"I-" he cuts off his own protest and I can see pride warring with... something in his eyes. He finally cuts a glance toward Velanna and nods grudgingly. "Fine. Do it yer way."

Velanna shoots me a look that might be gratitude before opening the journal. "I'll try to be more open to compromise in the future," she offers. "But the Creators made me stubborn, so no promises."

"I can live with that..." Jerin nods as I quietly slip out of the room.

Velanna's willingness to even attempt compromise would surprise me if I didn't suspect she was sweet on Jerin. People will do wildly out of character things for love, or even _like_. I know this from experience. Viewed in that light, Velanna's sudden docile streak appears downright _normal_. I can't help but chuckle at the thought on the way to my study.

**oOo**

Getting this list together for Nathaniel proves to be easier than I anticipated. While I second guess some-alright, most-of my choices, I do manage to come up with a list that's long enough he won't shoot me reproving looks and short enough I don't feel guility giving it to him.

And fortunately, this third time tracking him down proves far easier than the first two. One of the militia saw him heading out to the stables, so I head in that direction as well.

"They're irresistible, aren't they?" I laugh when I find him sitting cross-legged next to Honey and her pups, one hand running slow, methodical strokes from between her ears to halfway down her back. The dog looks like she's in _heaven._

"They are that, yes," he agrees, smiling as he looks at the sleeping puppies. He reaches over with his free hand and runs a finger down the topmost pup's spine. It arches sleepily into the touch before settling back against its siblings.

"Hang on a bloody minute!" I hiss, trying to keep my protest to a whisper. "Honey hasn't let anyone but Lucy within six inches of her puppies without growling like she's plannin' to bite off limbs. How come you're an exception?!"

Nathaniel chuckles quietly at my indignation. "I imagine it's because I'm her human. Do you have any idea _how much_ trust a mabari exhibits when they imprint?"

I glance over at Fade, who's asleep. "I know it shows trust, but I never thought about the extent of it," I admit.

"Take it from me, imprinting shows the most implicit level of trust imaginable. _That's _why she'll let me near her litter. And Lucy, well, mabari are smart animals. If she sensed that Lucy was trying to help, that she knows how to care for the pups, I think she would make an exception." He ruffles the dog's ears and Honey lets out a pleased _wuff_.

"Well, happy as I am to know your mabari trusts you, I _did_ come out here for a reason," I comment, watching the puppies squirm in their sleep.

"And that would be?" Nathaniel prompts.

"As promised, one good-sized chunk of my to-do list." I hand him the rolled-up vellum.

He raises an eyebrow and takes it, unrolling and reading the list before shooting me a skeptical list. "Is this going to be enough?"

"Maker's breath, Nate, that's more than a third of my list, alright?" I retort. "And I'll give you more after you finish that, don't worry. A lot of what's on my list right now os things I can't delegate. Not won't, _**can't**_," I add, seeing the question in his eyes. "Swear to the Maker."

"I'll take your word for it," he sighs, rolling the vellum back up and slipping it in his pocket.

"Thank you." I let out a sigh of my own, only mine's in relief. "C'mon, dinner' soon, and I could use your help protecting Declan from the militia." I offer a hand up.

Nathaniel shoots me a questioning look as he accepts. "Who's Declan and why, pray tell, does he need protecting from the militia?"

I laugh and do my best to help haul him to his feet. "Declan is Zimri's replacement, from _Starkhaven_, and-"

"Don't tell me. Thick brogue?" Nathaniel smirks when I nod confirmation. "Perfectly happy to assist a fellow Warden."

"_That's _what I like to hear," I giggle as we head indoors.

_A/N: So, not much to say this week(*gasp*). Just... I love Rahna and Nate's banter. 'Course, I love all the banters, so that's hardly surprising. XD And c'mon, we all know Jowan's a worrywart. ;P And Nate going all "big brother" on Rahna made me smile. Also, I figure if Nate was squired in Kirkwall, he'd be familiar with Starkhaven and the rest of the Marches as well, so he'd hardly need to be told about Declan's accent._


	18. No Real Choice

18. No Real Choice

"C'mon, lovebirds! Marius has a job for us!" Vincent's barked summons were accompanied by heavy pounding on Gabriel's door.

"How much d'you want to bet he's only making an educated guess that I'm in here, too?" Miri whispered, grinning up at her warrior.

Gabriel chuckled, reluctantly untangling himself from her embrace. "You never know with him..."

The pounding resumed. "Gabriel! Miri! Hurry it up!"

Gabriel muttered under his breath in his native tongue as he crossed to open the door. "What has you all riled up?"

Vincent rubbed a hand over the top of his head and glowered briefly at the elf. "Jakob said he saw a darkspawn near the east tunnel when he was on patrol. Commander Marius wants someone to investigate, and it's our turn for grunt work again. So get Miri t' help you with your armor and meet us by the eastern wall gate."

"One question," Gabriel began before the other warrior could be on his way. "Just out of curiosity, what makes you think Miri's here?"

Vincent shot him a look that plainly asked if he was joking. "Because Ashe already checked Miri's room. And it you two aren't in one of the common areas or the library, you're in one of your rooms. Armor. Now. Ashe already grabbed food and all, so we just need you two. Make it fast!" With that admonishment, Vincent turned on his heel and walked off, not even glacing back. Gabriel huffed his bangs out of his eyes and shut the door. When he turned to face Miri, the mage was already holding out his boots.

"I have ears, love," she laughed in response to his questioning look. "And I'd say some of Ashe's impatience has _finally_ worn off on her brother."

Gabriel chuckled as he accepted the boots and pulled them on. "I'll say. Don't know why he's in such a hurry. It's not like we can't track this darkspawn, if it even exists, no?"

Miri rolled her eyes. "Gabriel, Jakob is one of the few Wardens here who _never_ drinks. And you think _he_ imagined a darkspawn?"

He shrugged, gesturing for her to pass him the first pieces of his armor. "He is also among the more_ paranoid, ma chere_."

"_Vigilant_," Miri corrected, softening the reproof with a smile as she handed him his arming jacket.

"And being overly vigilant can cause one to see things just like over-indulging in spirits," Gabriel countered.

Miri shrugged. "Regardless of our own feelings on this, you know we have to investigate all potential threats. _Especially_ ones near that tunnel."

"Yes, yes, I know," the redhaired warrior sighed. "Much as I was enjoying your company, perhaps some excitement will be a good thing..."

**oOo**

Whatever doubt the elf may have had about Jakob's darkspawn, they were quickly laid to rest upon entering the tunnel. Fait as the whispers may have been, they were there. And while he couldn't hear them as loudly as Miri apparently was-she'd already rubbed her forehead multiple times, as if trying to banish a headache-he _could_ hear them.

"Alright, so Jakob wasn't imagining things," he muttered. "Our plan?" They all looked at Vincent for the answer.

The warrior thought for a moment before replying, "There are a couple spots in this tunnel that have given us... _trouble_ before. I say we check those places first and go deeper only if need be. We need to play it safe with our supplies, water especially with how hot it can get in these blasted tunnels."

"Sounds good," Ashe nodded. "Though, do me a favor, Vince: if we should encounter an ogre this time, don't charge straight at it."

"No promises, sister," he retorted with a laugh. "That will depend on if it tries to crush the life out of you like the last one we met."

"Yes, because charging the bloody thing head on worked _so well_."

"It dropped you, didn't it?" Vincent pointed out.

"Only after kicking you in the chest!" Ashe shot back.

"Nothing broke," he shrugged.

"Still maybe do things differently, no?" Miri piped up. "Especially considering I'm the only mage you have this time around," she reminded them.

"Mm. Good point," Vincent conceded. "Hopefully it won't be anything serious this time and no such tactics will be necessary."

"Shhh, don't say that!" Ashe admonished. "With our luck, a comment like that will make it happen."

"Wow, Ashe, you actually sound superstitious," Miri teased.

"Just cautious and a touch cynical," she replied smoothly, winking at the elf.

Vincent shushed them after that, and they continued down the tunnel in relative silence, broken only by the occasional clank of armor scuffing against stone, or short, muttered curses for tripping over nearly unseen cracks. At least at first.

**oOo**

They'd been making their way through the dim tunnel for nearly five hours when Ashe broke the silence with a hissed, "_Vince_..."

"I feel it," he whispered back with a nod, glancing at the elves. Both Gabriel and Miri echoed his nod of confirmation. There were darkspawn nearby, probably a fair number of them.

Vincent and Gabriel quietly drew their swords and settled their shields on their arms. Ashe didn't go quite as far, opting to simply curl her hands around the grips of her axes, ready to have them out at a moments notice. With how strongly they could _all _sense the darkspawn, they were either _very_ nearby or there were a lot of them. Maybe both.

Ashe edged forward to take point as they neared a bend in the tunnel, purely out of habit. Just before reaching it, she froze, throwing out a hand in the universal signal for _Stop_. The others all halted in their tracks, waiting for the warrior's okay to move. But Ashe only crept forward alone, gesturing for them to wait. Vincent sighed and leaned against the wall, more than used to his sibling's stubborn habits.

It was only a few minutes' time before Ashe returned, motioning for them to move further back down the tunnel. It was only when she judged them to be safe that the dark-haired woman whispered her report.

"There's a patrol just around that curve," she hissed. "Three hurlocks and a genlock that I'm pretty damned sure is an alpha."

"I'll take the alpha," Miri volunteered, smirking as the warriors all looked at her with open astonishment. "Just 'cause I don't wear armor doesn't mean I'm fragile. Trust me, keep the hurlocks busy, and I'll take care of the alpha."

"Don't do anything too crazy, _cherie_," Gabriel requested in an undertone as they returned to the bend.

Miri snickered quietly and kissed him on the cheek. "You're the berserker, love, not me. Crazy's _your_ job. And hers," she amended, nodding at Ashe.

"Yes, well, keep us alive and don't die yourself," Gabriel murmured back, planting a return kiss on her temple. "You and I have some... unfinished business back at the fortress, no?"

She grinned. "I believe we do, ser." And with that, the mage stepped around the curve and trapped the alpha inside a crushing prison spell.

"Why do they always have to have the last word?" Gabriel muttered to Vincent.

The taller warrior shrugged. "I wish I knew. Personally, I'm leaning toward something genet-_Ow_!" he broke off as Ashe lightly whacked the back of his head.

"Focus, big brother," she chided with a smirk, barreling down the tunnel to intercept the first of the hurlocks as it went after Miri. Gabriel and Vincent joined her, ice crusting along their swords as they passed the dark-skinned mage. Gabriel spared a precious second to send his lover a grateful smile before slamming shield first ito a similarly armed hurlock. He ducked under the creature's wild opening swing and made an only slightly more controlled counter-attack, already feeling the berserker fire well up in his chest. The thought of this thing trying to hurt Miri, _his Miri_, did the trick much faster than anything else. Before he knew it, the elf was battering the hurlock with sword, shield, even ramming his shoulder against the thing's shield to drive it back into the wall. He was so completely focused on his target that he didn't realize Ashe's hurlock had decided to lend the one he faced some back-up until his fellow berserker's axe whistled mere _centimeters_ over his head while removing the hurlock's. Slightly more in control thanks to that close call, Gabriel swept the surviving hurlock's legs out from under it, neatly slicing into its knee to prevent it from rising, kicked away its shield and rammed his sword into its chest. He didn't pull the blade free until the creature's shrieks had turned to rasping gurgles and faded out completely. It was only then that he looked over at Ashe and voiced his thanks.

"Not a problem," she shrugged, panting slightly as she swiped ichor and sweat off her face.

"Anybody hurt?" Miri ventured.

"Can you do anything for a wrenched shoulder?" Vincent replied. "That thing had a _damn_ good swing." He glanced at the nearly-headless darkspawn in question, still clutching a saw-toothed greatsword in one hand.

"Mmm, those are helped more by rest and soaking in warm water, but since neither is an option right now, I'll see what I can do," the mage offered.

"I'd appreciate it," Vincent sighed in relief, visibly relaxing as the pale blue glow settled on his shoulder. He rolled the formerly-injured limb a few times, seeming pleased with the result. "At least it's my shield arm. I can still fight if that's a bit dodgy."

"Wait a minute..." Miri frowned, eyeing one of the side tunnels with blatant suspicion. "Ashe, that wasn't there last time, was it?"

The berserker raked sweaty wisps of hair of her forehead and squinted at the passage with matching concern. "No, I don't think it was. Vince, you remember seein' that before?"

He shook his head and approached it warily. "Can't say that I do. And look, these marks around the edge? These are relatively fresh. This is new."

"Well, I'd say _that's_ worth investigating," Gabriel commented.

"Agreed.." Vincent nodded. "Let's go. But quietly as you can. We don't know what's down here."

**oOo**

The tunnel was longer than they'd expected. A lot longer. _Too _long.

"Vince, there's no way they finished this whole thing in the months since we blocked off under the channel."

"You're right." Vincent nodded his agreement with his sister's words. "Not without a bloody army, which we would have felt."

"They must have started at the far end-wherever that it-and worked toward the main tunnel," Gabriel suggested, not liking the thought of that level of intelligence. _If_ that had been on purpose rather than simple dumb luck. This being the darkspawn, they really couldn't afford to take the chance, so he would stick with assuming the worst.

"Hey, Mir, could I have a bit of light?" Ashe requested, and the mage cautiously allowed a glow to bloom around the head of her staff, just enough to help.

"Whaddya see?" she asked, curiosity winning out.

"See these?" Ashe ran her fingers over a pair of gouges in the tunnel wall. "These aren't from digging; something that came through here was angry. _Really_ angry, judging by how deep they are."

"That height, it's probably a shriek," Vincent offered, staring at the gashes. "Lovely thought."

"Oh, yes. This is going to be fun," Ashe muttered darkly, motioning for Miri to decrease the light of her staff. As the darkness returned, Gabriel echoed her sentiment in a string of _supremely_ unhappy Orlesian epithets.

None of them were looking forward to encountering shrieks, period, let alone _angry_ ones. But the familiar sensation of nearby darkspawn was tugging at their minds, playing around the edges of consciousness, and they knew-personal reluctance aside-pressing on was their only choice. So the four continued down the tunnel, only with even greater caution than before. Ashe stepped to the front in a practiced and silent move that Vincent allowed. She was the closest thing to a rogue in the group, so it was best to let her lead when stealth was required. It made things all the more nerve-wracking, to be sure; creeping at a far slower pace than any of them wanted. But the longer they could avoid notice, the better.

Due to his armor, it took a few extra second to realize, but Gabriel eventually felt the gentle pressure against his hand and looked down. The deep brown of Miri's skin was a sharp contrast against the silver of his gauntlets as she threaded her fingers between his. He glanced over at the mage. Her expression was difficult to read in the dim light, but even so, she seemed worried. He lightly squeezed her hand and offered a reassuring smile, trying to conceal his own twisting sense of dread behind a wall of false confidence. He hoped she bought it. Miri had a way of reading his very _soul_, whether he wanted her to or not, so it wouldn't have surprised him if she still picked up on his concern.

But Gabriel was wrenched out of his private worries when Vincent and Ashe both snapped to a halt at the end of the tunnel, an end that had appeared almost out of nowhere in the dim light. Vincent swore and Ashe gasped, both nearly drowned out by the keening shrieks that filled the chamber ahead. Gabriel and Miri's hands parted as they joined the Nevarran siblings and all four stared in stunned horror at the monstrosity that awaited them.

Finally, Vincent gathered himself enough to whisper the moniker they all knew but dreaded hearing, all the same.

"Broodmother."

_A/N: Heh, whoops, I commited cliffhanger again. *is sheepish* Sorry, guys, that wasn't planned when I started writing this chapter. It just sort of... happened. And I like the way it ends the chapter, so muahahahahaaa. I may possibly continue with these guys next chapter, or I may flash to Rahna for a chapter before returning. We'll see what the muses give me(I'm hoping for the former, so I don't wind up being mega-super evil)._


	19. Repercussion

19. Repercussions

Even after Vincent said the word, Miri's gaze stayed locked on the _thing_ perched against the opposing wall as if she couldn't believe it was real. And the broodmother certain looked as if it belonged in a nightmare or some horrific fantasy. Its ears, grossly elongated and distorted beyond the normal size, curved back and up, ending in ragged points just above the crown of its head. Sharp teeth, much like those belonging to its offspring, protruded between greyed and snarling lips as the creature's narrow eyes roved the room in an effort to locate the disturbance it had sensed.

"Please tell me I'm dreaming," the mage whispered to Gabriel, voice so small and shaky it broke his heart.

"I wish I could." He reached for her hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. The other elf didn't look at him, couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the monstrosity sitting only a few yards away. "Miri?"

She didn't even acknowledge that she'd heard him speak, eyes wide with shock and fear. Then he felt the tremors start.

"_Miri_." There was a note of quiet desperation in his whisper that caught Ashe's attention even if it didn't catch Miri's. The warrior turned to look at the elves, brow wrinkling in concern when she saw the state Miri was in.

"What's wrong?" Ashe murmured, leaving her brother to plan their attack alone as she stepped closer to Gabriel and the panic-stricken mage.

"I think she's in shock," Gariel replied. "It's as if she doesn't even hear me, no?"

"Miri." Ashe gave her a gentle shake. No response. "_**Miri**_." A slightly harsher shake yielded the same result, or lack of one. Ashe winced, worked off one gauntlet, and slapped the petrified elf.

Miri let out a sharp gasp, as if she'd been dunked in ice water, and shot the berserker a reproachful look. "What was that for?!" she demanded breathlessly.

Ashe sighed in exasperation. "You were off in la-la land and nothing else was working. What was I _supposed_ to do, nothing? Let my brother and your lover and myself go up against a broodmother with no magical back up? I get that it's freaky, and unsettling and more than a little scary, but we need you for this, Mir. And for what it's worth, that was _not_ the hardest I could have hit you. Trust me."

"I do," Miri nodded, rubbing her cheek all the same. "Sorry. I think... I think I'm good."

"You sure?" Ashe double-checked, raising an eyebrow. "Because you freeze up like that in the midddle of fighting this thing, and all of us are gonna _die_."

"Now you're just being dramatic," Gabriel protested, crossing his arms. "I've seen you and Vincent fight. Miri is a talented mage, and her help will be invaluable, but I do not believe our chances at victory rest solely on her participation."

Ashe snorted quietly. "Yes, well, you ever fought a broodmother before, Andras?"

"No-"

"Well, you're about to," Vincent cut in. "If you're all done with... whatever was so important back there, I'd like to share the plan of attack."

"Sure, Vince, go ahead," Ashe prompted, crosing her arms and shifting her weight to one hip as she listened.

Vincent rapidly-and quietly-explained his plan. It wasn't anything fancy; the warriors charging in to take care of the broodmother itself while Miri stayed back-"Well out of tentacle reach," Vincent emphasized-and did what she could from a distance; heal, freeze things, alert them to any reinforcement the broodmother summoned. "You going to be alright?" he asked Miri.

The mage nodded. "Now that the initial shock's gone, yes. I'll be fine."

"Good. We'll be counting on you, Miri. Keep us-and yourself-alive."

"I will," she promised, squeezing Gabriel's hand when the redhead shot her a concerned look. "Now let's get on with this."

"Right." Vincent's sword gave a faint, scraping whine as he pulled it from the sheath, a sound echoed by Gabriel's blade and Ashe's axes.

As they readied themselves to charge, Miri whispered the spell from before, crusting the waeapons with ice.

"Strike hard and true," she murmured to herself as the trio burst from the tunnel's mouth and into the broodmother's chamber.

The broodmother was ready for them, the Taint singing in their blood all the warning it needed. The creature let out a screech of feral rage, thick tentacles swinging to block the approaching warriors. One caught Vincent in the chest, causing him to stumble back a few paces before resuming the charge. Gabriel ducked as a more slender tentacle flew at his head, and Ashe dodged a side-swipe attempt from another, nicking it with one of her axes as it breezed by. The broodmother shrieked and lashed out again at the berserker. This time she took off the tip of the flailing tentacle, earning a bellow of pain from the monstrosity, its ears twitching back against its skull.

"Keep it busy!" Vincent hollered, dodging another tentacle and getting close enough to attack the broodmother itself.

Ashe and Gabreil did their best, hacking off tentacles, ducking the beast's retaliation while Miri occasionally summoned frost to coat the thrashing extremities. All the while Vincent opened fresh wounds on the dark grey, fleshy body.

They managed to cause quite a bit of damage before the broodmother threw back its head and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

"We're gonna have company!" Miri yelled from the tunnel entrance, bracing herself against the wall as the darkspawn chatter in their heads grew louder and louder. It had to be nearly unbearable for her, Gabriel knew, as he spun to be ready for this new threat. Much as he disliked turning his back on the broodmother, the tunnel was the room's only entrance and he wasn't about to let Miri get overwhelmed.

But, when they arrived, the shrieks largely ignored the mage, instead attacking the warriors. The broodmother must have somehow communicated which were the bigger threat when it called to them. The alpha and two others all beelined for Vincent, the rest splitting between Gabriel and Ashe.

As he batted aside claws, hearing the metal blades screech against his shield, Gabriel spared a glace at Miri. She had apparently managed to shut out the cacophony of voices in her head and was concentrating hard on whatever spell she was trying to summon. When she finally looked up, staff and free hand both flaring with sickly tan light, the majority of the shrieks froze mid-motion, snarling fangs and raking claws suspended in cages of light the same sickly tan. The alpha resisted the paralysis spell, as did the slavering broodmother and one of the shrieks that had attacked Ashe.

Freed up as he was, Gabriel moved to help his fellow berserker, but Ashe shook her head.

"I've got this bastard!" she assured him. "Help Vince!"

So he did. Between the two warriors' furious attacks, it wasn't long before the shriek slowed enough for Vincent to take off one clawed arm at the elbow and ram his sword up into its chest. It fell with a gurgle, body still twitching. The men turned their attention to finishing off the still-paralyzed darkspawn before they got free. They made good progress, but there were still a few left as the spell wore off-and those few were even angrier than before, to the point of frenzy.

Vincent tossed up his shield arm, blocking a strike at his head before batting away the creature's bladed fist. Gabriel stepped seamlessly into his place as the man returned his attention to the broodmother. It was far from easy to fend off a frenzy-driven shriek alone, but he didn't exactly have a choice, and the small arcane bolts that hit the gangly darkspawn served to remind the elf that he wasn't _entirely _ alone in his efforts. But Miri was low enough on mana, Gabriel figured the weak bolts were the best she could do and slaying this thing was still largely up to him.

He batted aside the flailing blades, pinning one against a rocky outcropping and smashing his shield into it hard enough the rust-streaked metal snapped off at the knuckles. The shriek _screamed_ in rage, galvanized to the point it swatted aside his shield and dug its claws into the side of his head. Were he the dramatic type, Gabriel was have said he could feel the thing's claws raking against his skull as it ripped them forward with enough force to send him spinning-_**hard**_-into a wall.

Miri stood frozen for all of two seconds in stunned disbelief when her warrior didn't immediately get up, eyes darting between him and the bloody smear on the wall. Then a cry that was half rage and half fear tore its way out of her throat as she charged into the room. She was vaguely aware of Vincent and Ashe yelling at her, but her focus was on Gabriel-and the shriek standing over his dazed form-and she couldn't make out words. Even as she ran toward the beast, she hissed a spell, draining her last reserves of mana to freeze it solid. When she drew close enough, she bashed the frozen darkspawn with her staff so hard that it shattered, sending icy fragments careening around the chamber.

"Mir..." Gabriel rasped in warning, pointing behind her with one hand as he swiped blood out of his eyes with the other.

Too late. Even as she turned to face the new threat, a fairly thick tentacle wrapped around her chest and yanked her into the air.

Vincent cursed as he reached down to haul Gabriel to his feet. "This is _exactly_ why I told her to keep her bloody distance!"

Gabriel didn't bother to reply, just threw himself at the tentacle as the siblings went after the broodmother itself. The last of the shrieks had fallen to Ashe's axes, leaving the three of them free to concentrate on their main target.

Gabriel's sword dug deep into the tentacle, causing the broodmother to hiss and tighten its grasp on Miri, earning a strangled cry of pain from the mage as _something_ cracked. Ashe hewed off a pair of slimmer tentacles simultaneously.

"Hang in there Mir!" she called up to the mage. "We've almost got it!"

Another stroke of Gabriel's blade and the tentacle was too damaged to maintain its grip. It drooped slowly, dropping Miri and hanging limp. Gabriel lunged forward to catch the mage, trying to be gentle, but she still whimpered in pain when she collided with his breastplate.

"Enough of this," Vincent growled, shaking his head. A stroke of his sword cleared away the few remaining tentacles in his path, and the warrior hauled himself up on the broodmother's back. One hand latched on to a tattered ear to keep himself from being thrown free while his swordarm swung around front and he slashed the broodmother's throat. It screeched-or tried to; the actual sound was more a horrible bubbly gurgle-and thrashed, trying too late to dislodge its foe. But Vincent hung on, driving his sword down through the thing's clavicle. It gave one final, violent lurch forward, tossing Vincent off in a clatter of armor meeting stone, and sagged in death.

Near-silence reigned for a long moment, panting gasps for breath all the Wardens could hear or manage. Miri's head lolled against Gabriel's shoulder, heedless of the blood, as the mage struggled to keep from passing out when they needed her most. Gabriel caught on to her struggle and groped in his pack until he could tug free a lyrium potion. He uncorked the vial and pressed it into Miri's hand, curling her fingers around it. But she was too spent to even raise her hand, so the warrior poured the vial's glowing blue contents down her throat for her. Miri swallowed, gave a shuddering gasp, and raised her head.

"Thanks... love," she whispered, still panting.

"Anything for you, _ma chere_," Gabriel murmured, pressing a half-bloody kiss to her forehead.

"Ah!" Even the slight shift in position pulled a yelp of pain from the dark-skinned elf in his lap. Hissing in agony, she pressed one hand to her ribcage and summoned healing magic. Gabriel saw her visibly relax as the spell did its work. Once her ribs were healed, Miri looked up at him, unable to hide a wince at the blood covering half his face.

"That bad, hm?" he chuckled, fighting a wince of his own as pain lanced along the wounds.

"Worse," she informed him wryly. "Hold still." She pushed herself to her feet to get a better look, wincing again as she brushed his hair aside. "Ready to reconsider not wearing a helmet?"

"No." He couldn't shake his head due to her probing fingers, so he put extra vehemence into the word.

Miri sighed as she summoned a spell to heal up the wounds. "Then I suppose it's a good thing I like your scars, because you have some new ones. And a nice nick in your ear."

Gabriel instinctively raised a hand to feel, gingerly tracing the trio of marks from his forehead back under his hair until his fingers brushed against the nick in his ear. A low whistle of surprise escape his lips. "No wonder it hurt like the blazes..."

"Mm-hm." Miri raised an eyebrow at him before turning her attention to Vincent and Ashe. "Either of you need anything done?"

Ashe shook her head. "Surprisingly enough, I'm good. There's some spots that'll probably be bloody sore tomorrow, but nothing's bleeding or broken."

"Good to hear. Vincent?"

He sighed and shook his head. "All _I_ need is an explanation for why you disobeyed orders."

The mage blinked in surprise. "Gabriel-"

Vincent cut her off with a shake of his head. "You could have frozen that shriek and let _me_ or_ Ashe_ finish it off; Gabriel would have been _fine_, and you wouldn't have nearly gotten _killed_," he countered, voice level as he crossed his arms.

Miri mimicked his pose, glaring up at the warrior. "What, you think I only did that 'cause it was _Gabriel_?! Sod, Vincent, I may love him, but I'd've taken the same risk for you or Ashe!"

"Vince, I believe her," Ashe chipped in cautiously.

"So do I," he replied with a heavy sigh. "The point isn't that she disobeyed orders and took a needless risk for Gabriel, it's that _that's_ how it's going to _look_. You know I'm going to have to give a detailed report of what we found to Commander Marius, _**especially**_ since you're coming back with new scars," he nodded at Gabriel. "And all he's going to see is Miri disobeying orders and taking a serious risk to save the man everyone in the garrison _knows_ is her lover. Gabriel, I would almost bet money he'll reassign you." Vincent held up a hand as the elves both began to protest. "I will do what I can to talk him into making it one of the other teams in our garrison, but I can't promise anything."

Gabriel grumbled under his breath in Orlesian, but nodded. "I... see your point," he conceded reluctantly. "Any explanation he could give would only sound like so many excuses, no?" he said to Miri when she frowned at him.

"Exactly. And I'm not mad at you, well, not _too_ mad, for acting on emotion and adrenaline in the heat of battle," Vincent informed the mage. "Everyone does sometimes. It's simply that I am accountable for this team, and there are going to be some consequences for what you did. I'll do my best to minimize it for you, but it's not going to go away entirely."

Miri swallowed her pride and nodded. "I... understand, I think. Thank you for being willing to try."

"Not a problem." Vincent took a deep breath, surveying the chamber and the dead darkspawn that littered the place. "What do you say we fill in the damn tunnel and go home?"

He was answered by three eager nods.

"A most excellent plan," Gabriel affirmed. And so they did. They could worry about repercussions when they reached the surface.

_A/N: Because Gabriel didn't have enough scars already! 8D I felt like giving him more. And, yeah, Miri was extra freaking out because, y'know, elven broodmother(same reason Rahna hates shrieks with every fiber of her being). Oh, and Vincent's not trying to be mean at the end there, he's just better at the 'thinking things through under pressure' deal, which is why he's the leader. _


	20. Weird

20. Weird

Having a few months straight of peace and quiet is downright _weird_, if I'm honest. No darkspawn, no bandits, nothing attacking us and no ceremonies people are begging me to attend. We do keep keep up some patrols to make sure the darkspawn don't come back, but after a month and a half of nothing, those become more cursory than anything else. That may be due as much to the increasingly colder weather as it is true complacency, though. I actually have days where I can curl up with a book and have several solid hours without being interrupted.

Like I said, _weird_. Only a few things of any special note have transpired over the past few months: the number of letters Nathaniel's received from the city has reached a point where Sigrun and I tease him _mercilessly_ whenever we get the chance, some... unlikely friendships have formed, and Honey's pups have reached the point of imprinting.

It surprises absolutely no one when the lone girl takes a shine to Lucy. With how invested the woman's been in taking care of them, I would honestly have been more surprised if one _hadn't_ imprinted on her. Ruby, as Lucy christens the reddish-tan pup, moves into the barracks with her human and rather quickly comes to an arrangement of sorts with Ser Pounce- if she doesn't play with his tail while he's sleeping, he won't trip her on the stairs.

What _is_ surprising-to me, at least-is the youngest of Ruby's brothers imprints on Jerin. The warrior isn't particularly happy with this development at first, muttering sourly at the cheerful puppy in elvish every time he sees him. His getting imprinted upon in the first place wasn't even on purpose. I'd let Honey and the pups out for some fresh air on a not-terribly-cold day, and Jerin happened to be practicing at the archery range when the baby of the litter managed to escape. I was too busy corralling the older boys to immediately give chase, and by the time I found the sneaky little bastard, he was teething on the trailing strap from Jerin's quiver. When I picked up the little guy and went to carry him away, he started howling and climbed over my shoulder. He turned an awkward somersault landing before making a beeline back to Jerin, cowering between his boots.

"Well, looks like _someone_'s picked you," I chuckled in surrender, leaning against the fence.

Jerin muttered something about not wanting some mangy beast following him around forever.

"First off, he's _not_ mangy, and second, it pays off. Trust me," I informed him.

He grumbled some more, but I caught him sneaking the puppy food from his dinner and playing with it later. Velanna told me he named it Revas, which means 'freedom' in elvish.

Much to my delight and Sigrun's chagrin, the eldest of the boys, a dark tan scamp who gets in trouble every time I let him out of the stables, chooses her. It's all I can do to not laugh gleefully as I inform her she'll simply _have_ to stick around for a while so Varlan-as she's slipped into calling him-can mature a bit.

"But, Commander, I don't know the first thing about taking care of a dog," she balks. "I've never really had _a_ pet before, let alone a mabari puppy."

"Oh, don't worry, Sig. Lucy and I'll help you," I assure her sweetly.

"Mmm... _fine_, you win," she sighs. "I'll stay. For now."

"Good to hear," I chuckle. "You know I'll miss you when you go."

"_If _I ever go, now..." she mutters, and I grin behind her back and scratch Varlan's ears.

**oOo**

The last of the puppies steadfastly refuses to follow his siblings' example. He'll play with pretty much anyone-Varel's a particular favorite, since he usually brings soup bones-but he adamantly refuses to imprint on anybody. I'm forced to shrug and just leave it that he hasn't found "his person" yet.

I have other things to focus on, anyway. My books, teasing Nathaniel about all his letters from Amaranthine, talking with Jowan about everything from the dark circles under his eyes that aren't going away to his growing friendship with Declan. Both are favorite topics of mine, though the former is more serious and the latter teasing. And, of course, Jowan does everything he can think of to distract me from the 'dark circles' topic. I think he knows I'm not truly buying any of the excuses he offers. But I pretend to, all the same. This is one thing where I adamant with myself: if he doesn't want to talk about it, I'm keeping my prying to a minimum.

The teasing, however... _that_ he'll give right back to me with barely a pause. Like he's doing now.

"...you're just jealous you're not my only friend anymore."

I clasp my hands over my heart and plop dramatically into one of the infirmary's chairs, feigning mortal injury. "You wound me with your cruel words, ser mage! I am simply _devastated_ you think me anything but thrilled to see you making friends." I ruin it by giggling at the very end.

Jowan shoots me one of his knowing looks and roughs my hair. "Sure you are, _boss_."

I shoot_ him _a dirty look and lean forward to poke him in the ribs. "Just 'cause you're my primary healer now does _not _mean I want you turning into a darker-haired version of Anders."

He yelps when I poke him and backpedals out of reach. "Alright, fine, _Rahna_. But there has to be some reason you keep teasin' me about making friends."

"You mean aside from the fact your best-not-me-friend's a _templar_ and you're a _blood mage_?" I raise an eyebrow and smirk at him. A thought occurs to me. "Does he... _know_? About... y'know."

Jowan sighs and nods. "A bit. I didn't tell him _everything_, not yet, but he knows I... dabbled in blood magic."

"And?" I heard _nothing_ of this while it was going on, so obviously he came to terms with it, but I can't imagine a _templar_ having an easy time swallowing _**that**_ news.

He shrugs. "He stared at me for a few seconds-mostly the scars-like the final pieces of some puzzle were clicking together in his head and walked out without saying a word. I didn't see him for a few days, and when he did come back, he acted like... like there was nothing different between us." Jowan sighs, rakes a hand through his hair. "I finally got up the nerve to ask if we were alright. You know I don't have many friends, so the thought of losing one of them... wasn't pleasant. He just looked at me, shrugged, and said that while he couldn't quite _condone_ blood magic, he wasn't going to _condemn_ me for it, either. Hasn't mentioned it since-or seemed the slightest bit uncomfortable around me, for that matter."

"Mm." I rest my chin on one hand. "Sounds like at least one of our ex-templars truly left the biases at his Joining."

"Mm-hm. Helps that he was only a templar for a few years," Jowan points out. "Some of the ones at the Tower managed to cling to _some_ human decency for five or six years before duty became all-important."

I bite back a wince at the note of bitterness that seeps into his voice at the end. "Can't be an easy balancing act for them, though. _Not_ saying I agree with treating mages as less than human just 'cause the Maker gave you a gift and skipped the rest of us. I _saw_ the Circle Tower, Jowan," I remind him. "I'm the reason Greagoir didn't kill all the mages who survived Uldred's rebellion. Trust me, I _know_ it's a prison and I don't like that one bit."

"I hear a 'but' in there somewhere," he mutters.

I shake my head. "The templars, in a way, are just as trapped as you are. They need lyrium. The Chantry has a monopoly on everything the dwarves mine. If they don't want to go into lyrium withdrawal, they're pretty much stuck."

"Templars get a little more say in the matter than mages do, Rahna," Jowan points out, sitting sideways on the choir next to mine. "We don't choose this-" he flicks his fingers and cradles the summoned flame for a few seconds before extinguishing it- "the Maker gives it to who He will. Templars are templars because they chose it."

"Not all of them," I contradict, thinking of Alistair. "Children raised by the Chantry can either be priests or templars. Or, if they have magic, get locked up in the Circle. Not a lot of _choice_ there."

"Alright, alright, you win," he laughs ruefully, leaning his head back against the wall in good-natured surrender. "Why do I even bother arguing with you, you bloody stubborn woman?"

I shrug and smirk at him. "Slow learner?"

It's his turn to shoot a dirty look in my direction. "Low blow."

"Sorry." I wrinkle my nose and smile apologetically at him. "But you've known me for over a sodding _year,_ Jowan. If you haven't figured out by now how stubborn I can be, what other conclusion am I to reach?"

"Maybe I'm hoping to catch you in a giving mood?" he offers, shrugging.

"Pff. You're too cynical to be such an optimist," I snort, lightly kicking his ankle.

"You're rubbing off on me. I'm turning over a new leaf. Something like that," Jowan teases.

"The first of those seems the most likely. Poor you."

"No comment," he mumbles, fighting a grin.

"_**Hey!**_" I punch him in the shoulder.

"Ow! C'mon, Rahna. You walked yourself into that one and you know it!" he protests, rubbing his arm.

"Still... bloody _mage_," I mutter. "I really _have_ rubbed off on you..."

"Trust me, I appreciate that fact more than I regret it," Jowan comments. "I don't like to think about where I'd be without you, Rahna."

I shrug, feeling my face heat. "Yes, well... I guess I do keep life interesting, that's for sure."

"If I say 'no comment', are you gonna hit me again?"

"Very hard," I promise.

He clears his throat. "Not going to argue with that, then."

"You-" I growl in frustration and yank on his ponytail. "I hate you, you evil mage."

"No, y'don't," he retorts, grinning at me. "I wouldn't still be here if you hated me."

"Point," I concede with a sigh. "I have paperwork I should probably go do. Don't wander too far off. I'll probably have a headache I need you to take care of in an hour or two."

He chuckles. "As you wish."

I stick my tongue out at him for the teasing tone as I make my exit, desperate to hold on to the levity for as long as I can in the face of paperwork.

**oOo**

It takes every _ounce_ of self-restraint I possess not to nag as I watch those dark circles Jowan doesn't want to talk about grow more and more obvious every day. I try telling myself they look worse than they really are because he's so pale. That mages sense darkspawn more strongly, so maybe the nightmares are still bad for him.

But I can never fully convince myself that either of those is correct. There's just... something in his eyes. A melancholy, haunted look he only gets when a certain Chantry initiate comes up. And I do have to admit, the last time he looked so tired, it was because he'd been dreaming about her, losing sleep because of the one wrong he hasn't been able to even try and fix.

Even after I admit to myself the probable cause of Jowan's increasing exhaustion, I can't quite bring myself to _say_ something. I'm normally so blunt, so free with my opinions that this reticence would strike people as weird, I'm sure. But I _know_ what a touchy subject Lily is, and if I'm wrong, I don't want to _cause_ the very thing I'm always trying to help him _avoid_.

It takes a wrenched back following a two on one duel with Jerin and Sigrun to give me the added push I need. With my aching spine sapping my patience and making me far grumpier than usual, it's all I can do not to growl in frustration when I find Jowan dozing upon my arrival to the infirmary.

"Jowan." I poke his shoulder, and only get a mumble and a slight change in position for my trouble. _Alright, this is the last straw... "__**Jowan**__."_ I poke him harder this time and he jerks awake.

"What? ... Mm, sorry, Rahna." He scrubs sleep from his eyes. "What's wrong?"

I sigh and gently tap one finger against the dark circles rimming his eyes. "Aside from these? Wrenched my back dueling with Jerin and Sig."

He raises an eyebrow. "Two against one?"

I nod, wincing. "Yep. And he still beat us. And no, we didn't _let_ him."

"Well, I'm thoroughly impressed," Jowan mumbles around a yawn, raking back escaping wisps of hair, which just straggle free once more when he lowers his hand. "Let's take care of your back, though, yes?"

"_Please_," I groan, gingerly climbing up on the table so he can reach more easily. "And then we have to talk about the painfully obvious fact that you aren't getting enough sleep."

He sighs. "I was wondering when you'd finally ask. Made it a whole week longer than I thought you would, by the way."

I snicker, then wince. "Ow! Don't make me laugh until you've fixed my back, you bastard."

Jowan chuckles as he rests his hands on my back. "You do realize magic's not as effective at this as, say, rest and soaking in hot water, right?"

"Mm-hm." My toes curl in bliss as the gentle warmth of a healing spell seeps into the trouble spots. "Mmmm... Maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk to you."

"So talk," he replies cautiously.

"You not getting enough sleep... it's about Lily isn't it?"

He doesn't answer, but I hear a catch in his breathing that's almost answer enough.

Isn't it?" I prod.

"I... yes," he concedes, finishing with my back and sitting next to me on the table.

"Can I ask what set it off this time?" I probe gently.

He's silent for a _long_ moment, staring hard at the scar across his palm. "I told Declan. About... what happened with Lily and Miri." He hesitates, rubbing hard against the scar with his thumb.

"And?" I know this is hard for him to talk about and I don't want to push _too_ hard, but I'm _dying_ of curiosity.

Jowan finally meets my eyes, hands going still in his lap. "Rahna, he knows where Aeonar is."

_A/N: So, yeah. Guess where we're going!_


	21. I Owe You

21. I Owe You

For a long moment, I'm honestly speechless. "He... _what_?!"

"He knows where Aeonar is," Jowan repeats, and I can just _see_ everything that means to him burning in his eyes.

"So you told Declan about... _that_, and his _only_ reaction was to inform you he knows where this super-secret mage prison is?" I frown, trying to wrap my head around this. _Not_ the reaction I would've expected from a former templar.

"Mm, pretty much," he nods, cracking his knuckles absently.

_He's turnin' out to be a better friend than I thought..._ I admit to myself. "Well, I'm impressed. But one question: how in the name of Andraste's holy pyre _does_ he know? It being super secret and all?"

Jowan shrugs. "Ask him. All he told me was he knows where it is."

"He's gotta be having you on," I mutter, but that's so unlike Declan I have trouble believing the words even as they leave my mouth.

"You don't believe that, and you know it," Jowan protests, bumping his shoulder against mine.

"Okay, you're right, I don't," I shrug. "So, then. What're we gonna do with this?"

He raises an eyebrow at me and echoes, "We?"

I shoot him a Look. "D'you _really_ think I'm gonna let you do whatever you end up doin' without me?!"

He chuckles. "No, I guess I don't, at that..."

"I know how long this has been weighing on you. What kind of friend would I be if I let you deal with it alone?"

"I'm not going to be _alone_," he corrects. "It would be me and Declan. B'sides it'll almost definitely be dangerous, and I didn't want to ask you..."

I snort. "Because I'm _so_ unaccustomed to _danger_. Seriously, Jowan, unless the guards in this place are more dangerous than... mmm, say an Archdemon, it won't be a problem. And you don't even have to _ask_. You should know that." I poke him for good measure. "'Zacktly _how long's_ it been since Declan told you he knows where Aeonar is?"

Jowan at least has the grace to look sheepish as he mutters, "About a week... and a half."

I groan. "Maker above, what am I gonna do with you? Number of messes I've dragged you into, you are entitled to returning the favor a couple of times at least." I nudge him with my shoulder. "I think I owe you two for the Crow ambush alone."

He gives a weak smile. "Can't say I ever expected I'd need to survive the _Crows_. Templars, yes, but not Antivan assassins."

"So. I owe you," I insist triumphantly. "Now, where's Declan? I need to talk to him about this place's location and any other useful tidbits he might care to share."

Jowan chuckles. "Either his quarters or the training yard, I'd guess. He mentioned feeling like he was getting just a tad rusty."

"Oooh, Andraste save me..." I groan. "If he's training, _every single_ female with working eyes is gonna be hanging on the fence." I sigh. "At least it's too cold for him to be out there shirtless."

Jowan snorts. "Thank the Maker for small blessings?"

"Something like that," I chuckle as I hop down from the table. The smallest twinge of pain dances along my spine, but I ignore it. I have an ex-templar to track down.

**oOo**

When I find Declan, he's not in his room _or_ the training yard. But, given his sweat-dampened hair and the grin that speaks of a fading adrenaline rush, I think the second of Jowan's guesses was correct until about ten minutes ago.

"Rahna," Declan greets me with a nod, grin widening. "Yeh look like a woman on a mission."

"Yeah, I need to talk to you," I reply, gaze darting to the militia and serving girls still eyeing him while trying to look like they're _not_. "Alone."

"Yeh want yer office or mah quarters?" he shrugs, glancing at the persistent few admirers he hasn't managed to shake.

"My office is closer," I decide, motioning him toward the appropriate corridor.

One sandy eyebrow quirks upwards. "En a hurry, C'mmander?"

"You could say that. It's... kind of important."

Declan rakes his hair back out of his eyes as he follows, and I hear him chuckle. "He finally told yeh, didn't he?"

"If you mean Jowan tellin' me about how you know where Aeonar is, yep." We've reached my office by now, and I kick the door closed behind us.

"And you, what... wanted tae make sure I'm no' lyin' tae yer best friend? I assure yeh, Rahna, I'd no' do sich a thing," he promises, taking a seat in one of my chairs.

"Nah, I trust you enough to know you wouldn't lie about something that's so important to him. I'm more curious as to how _you_ know. I mean, I know you were a templar and all, but I though it was a pretty big secret even among templars." I cross my arms and lean against the desk.

"Et es," Declan agrees. "M'Knight-C'mmander musta seen somethin' en meh, 'cause I'm fair certain he was groomin' me tae be th' Knight-Captain at th' very least, ef no' hes successor somedey. Anyway, there was a mage, passed hes Harrowin' an' ev'rything, who wouldn't stop tryin' tae escape."

"Sounds familiar," I mutter, thinking of Anders.

"He couldn't 'a been more than eighteen," Declan continues. "But he was encredibily gifted-an' smart b'sides, and used tha' tae hes advantage. I think he'd escaped five or six times at tha' point. They couldn't make hem Tranquil, couldn't prove he was a maleficar, but did no' want tae be constantly chasin' hem either. So they decided tae lock hem up en Aeonar, and mah Knight-C'mmander had me go along as one 'a th' guards. They, of course, swore meh tae secrecy regardin' Aeonar's locaetion, but I've no qualms sharin' et fer thes."

"Why?" I ask, genuinely intrigued.

A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. "Aside from no' feelin' eny loyalty tae th' Chantry eny longer? Jowan's m' friend, Rahna. Yer plannin' on comin' weth us, aren't yeh? B'cause he's yer friend, too."

"Guilty as charged," I nod.

"So yeh understand where I'm comin' from?"

Another nod. "I'm sorry. I'm honestly not suspicious, and I'm glad you an' Jowan are such good friends, but I'm still... adjusting to the idea of someone besides me an' Miri caring that much about him."

Declan nods and offers an understanding smile. "Jealous?"

I wrinkle my nose and bite my bottom lip. "Maybe a _little._ I think it's more gettin' used to sharing. But you're a good guy and I like you well enough, so I'll get over it eventually."

He chuckles. "Good tae hear. Was there anythin' else, Rahna?"

"Well, I'd like it if you showed me where Aeonar is, and we need to figure out a plan of attack."

"Et's here." Declan taps the small pair of islands near West Hill, north of Lake Calenhad, on the half-folded map on my desk. "Far as a plan of attack... can I clean up first?"

I bite back a chuckle at his expression. "Of course."

"And perhaps we should adjourn tae th' enfirmary? After all, ef th' point 'a thes es tae help Jowan, he should have a part en plannin' et, yeah?"

"Valid point. But I think I'll have Velanna cover the infirmary for him so we can meet in here. I don't want the whole Vigil t' know what we're planning," I explain.

"Ah. Very canny of yeh," Declan chuckles. "Alright, I'll clean up an' come back here. Sey an hour, tae be safe?"

**oOo**

And so, an hour later finds me, Jowan, and Declan all gathered around my desk trying to figure out the best way to approach this proposed jailbreak.

"I don't suppose you saw the inside at all?" I ask Declan, not really even hoping for much.

"Jest th' entrance hall," he replies with an apologetic shrug. "Et was fair sized, short hall to a rounded chamber, then a short flight 'a stairs down tae th' actual prison, from wha' I could see. I'd guess there were offices off tae th' left an' righ' 'a the round room as well, for th' prison wardens. Tha's th' usual set-up."

"Okaaayyy..." I draw out the word, trying to come up with a plan that isn't completely suicidal, given that arrangement. "How many guards in the main hall?"

"Six, ef memory serves." Declan rakes still-drying hair out of his eyes and sighs in frustration. "But et's been near on four years sence I was there. Things might 'a changed..."

"We'll figure something out," Jowan chips in, staring at the small island on the map. "Even if it's not 'til we're _there_. Rahna's really good at coming up with spur-of-the-moment plans." He shoots me a meaningful look. "_Most_ of them even _work_."

"Hey!" I huff, poking his shoulder and pretending to be offended. "Name one that _hasn't_ worked."

"River Dane," he shoots back immediately. "I vaguely remember having to save your neck."

Dammit. "Fine, but they had an emissary I didn't notice at first, and that was an _exception_, not the rule."

Declan clears his throat. "Getting back on track..."

"Yes, right, sorry." I cough sheepishly and tuck loose wisps of hair behind my ear. "Honestly, I don't know how much planning we can do in advance if we're sketchy on the layout. We might _have_ to wing it."

"Alright, somethin' we _can_ plan en advance: are we taekin' anyone else, or goin' et weth jest th' three 'a us?"

"Mm. That _is_ a good question," I nod, biting my lip. "I guess it comes down to if the extra help is worth making them part of stepping on the Chantry's toes like this."

Jowan snorts. "Rahna, this is more than just 'stepping on their toes'. If someone else comes with us, they should be a Warden, so they aren't the slightest bit under the Chantry's authority. Y'know, to keep them out of _really_ big trouble."

"Good point." I nibble my lip in thought some more.

"Hey, Commander, you in there?" Sigrun's opening the door even as she asks, but skids to a halt when she sees Jowan and Declan. "Whoops, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt." She cocks her head in curiosity. "What're you up to, anyway?"

I glance back at the men. Declan just shrugs, but Jowan nods slightly. I turn back to the dwarf. "Wanna be part of a prison break, Sig?"

She blinks at me for a second or two, probably trying to decide if I've finally lost my marbles. "Uh, sure." Her usual grin returns. "Who're we busting out?"

"That's the spirit." The more I think about including Sigrun in our plan, the more I like it. "We're getting his old girlfriend out of Aeonar," I explain, nodding at Jowan.

"What did she do to get lock up?" Sigrun perches on the edge of my desk and starts studying the map.

"Helped me escape the tower," Jowan replies. "Between that and Greagoir thinking she knew I was a blood mage... it was sort of inevitable."

"Okay... So what do we know about this place?"

"No' much. I only got a brief glimpse 'a th' first floor," Declan fills her in. "We know how tae get there, and how tae get _en_, but beyond tha'... we'll be pretty much wengin' et."

Her grin widens. "Ooohh, wingin' it's my _favorite_ sort of plan." She laces her fingers together and cracks her knuckles. "So, Pretty Boy, why don't you fill me in on what you _can_ remember about this place. Absolutely _everything_, inside and out. It's okay if your memory's sketchy," she adds when Declan starts to protest. "I just need to know what we're gonna be dealin' with/"

He chuckles. "I'll do m' best."

"And while you two are doing that, we can figure out supplies and all that." I motion for Jowan to come with me. "What would you say it is, a week's travel either way?"

"Aye." Declan nods, tracing the route we'll take with one finger.

"Alright, then. C'man, Jowan." The two of us head down the hall.

"You trust those two with your office?" Jowan asks, only half-joking.

"Pff, yeah," I laugh. "Anything incriminating is in my bedroom."

"Ah-ha," he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair. "Also, are you sure you're okay with adding Sigrun to the mix? You just... seemed to hesitate before asking her, is all."

"Oh, yeah. Far as I'm concerned, bringing a _dwarf_ to a _mage prison_ is a really good idea, her being magic-resistant and all. Plus, she's a kick-ass fighter, and you two seem to get along well."

"Freely concede the point," Jowan nods.

"So. Let the fun begin," I smirk mischievously as we make our way to the kitchen.

_A/N: Only Rahna-and maybe Sigrun-would consider what they're planning to do "fun". Good thing it's a well-known fact that she's crazy, so people almost expect things like this from her. XDD I know I'm gonna have a lot of fun exploring both the friendship dynamic and how well the four of them work together in combat. :3 I solemnly swear to give everyone a chance to be badass(since I love all four, no worries about me playing favorites xD)._


	22. Templar's Tale

22. Templar's Tale

I leave Nathaniel in charge when we leave, of course. He understands why it makes more sense to bring Sigrun, "and besides, Rahna, I believe it's her turn to accompany you on a life-threatening adventure."

I roll my eyes. "C'mon, Nate, it's not gonna be _that_ bad."

He shoots me a disbelieving look. "Breaking a prisoner out of the most secret, well-guarded dungeon the Chantry has? I think that might be just a tad life-threatening, don't you?"

"Can't be wors than some of the other things we've had to do," I counter. "Silverite Mines? Dragonbone Wastes?"

"Oh, I'll grant you we've done things far more dangerous, but d'you honestly believe there won't be highly trained and fanatically loyal guards in this place?"

I shrug. "We'll manage. Declan has templar training, too, and I know from experience that a Holy Smite can stun even a non-mage. You just keep everything running smoothly here. It'll probably be close to a month." Declan took a closer look at the distance we'd need to cover and revised his travel time estimate to a week and a half each way.

"I'll do my best," Nathaniel promises with a chuckle. "Shouldn't be too hard; things are pretty calm right now."

"You do realize now that you've said that, it'll _have_ to get interesting soon after we leave," I tease.

He rolls his eyes. "Don't you need to finish packing, Commander?"

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint." I'm laughing as I make my exit. "Good luck."

"To you as well," he replies. "I think you'll need it more..."

And on that somewhat ominous-and slightly predictive-note, I take my leave.

**oOo**

Our trip to Aeonar is largely uneventful. Just _cold_. Sigrun and I chatter about everything from Honey's pups to Nate and Vi's steadily blossoming relationship. Sometimes, in between topics, the dwarf will draw Declan into our conversation by asking him about Starkhaven, or being a templar, or whatever she can think of to include him in our banter. Jowan, for the most part, walks in silence. I can't really say that surprises me. I'm sure worrying about Lily's reaction is driving him crazy. I'm equally sure that nothing I say or do will make him stop, not entirely.

Still, some distraction is better than none, so as Sigrun pesters Declan about his childhood, I fall in step with the mage. "You do realize worrying the 'what if's in circles isn't going to help _anything,_ right?"

He shrugs. "I can't help it, Rahna. I"m a worrier by nature. And with how long I've been trying to come up with a way to get her out, finally being able to do something about it..." He sighs, breath clouding the cold air. "You ever felt that weird mix of anticipation, fear bordering on dread and just sheer _nerves_?"

I work my hand through the folds of both our cloaks and squeeze his hand comfortingly. "More times than I care to count."

"She doesn't deserve to be locked up in there. But she's going to hate me, and _I_ deserve _that._"

Badly as I want to protest, I know he's right. As good a man I might think him to be, _Lily_ has every right to hate his guts. "Even if you're right, d'you have to focus on the negative?"

Jowan scoffs. "Tell me, Rahna, do you see a **_positive_** side to all this?! She got in bloody huge trouble because of me. She's spent _two years_ in prison _because of me_! She's going to hate my guts, and Maker help me, I deserve it..."

"...but it's still going to hurt," I finish for him, giving his hand another squeeze and wondering how long he's going to keep paying for his mistakes. _With how serious they were, probably forever..._ the cynical side of me supplies. _Oh, shut up._

He nods mutely.

"Because she was important to you, and you never meant for her to get in trouble."

Another nod. "It was my fault."

"And you've spent _two years_ paying for it, plus you're trying to _fix it_. So cut back on the moping and think of a story to tell Sigrun so she'll leave Declan alone for a few minutes. Poor man prob'ly needs a break."

"She can be... overwhelming once she gets going," Jowan agrees, a chuckle slipping through the gloom.

"We cheerful type are like that," I concede with a grin. "Keeps life interesting. And fun."

Jowan laughs. "You say that like interesting isn't always fun," he teases, adjusting the hood of his cloak with his free hand. "Maker, Rahna, what would I do without you?"

"I shudder to think," I riposte, bumping him with my shoulder as I release his hand. "Go. Before she drives the man batty."

"As you wish, _Commander_," he replies, grinning cheekily about the dig.

I just shake my head and smile to myself as he drops back.

"Oh, Sigrun, while you're on the subject of childhoods, did I ever tell you about this one stunt Miri got me to help her with..."

The dwarf, of course, latches on to that and plies him with questions as Declan subtly disengages and trails a few paces behind. He catches me watching him and mouths _'Thank you'_. I smile and nod back.

I had a twofold purpose in the verbal nudge I gave Jowan; give Declan some breathing room, and distract a certain mage from the circles of blame he keeps running in his head.

So far it seems to be working.

**oOo**

We're a little over halfway there before I finally ask Declan the question that's been bugging me since the day he arrived. "What made you want to be a Grey Warden rather than a templar?"

The way he looks at me, one eyebrow raised and a slight smile tugging at his lips, makes me think he knows how long I've been holding the question in. "Yeh wan' th' long version or th' short one?"

I gesture at the descending darkness and our cheerily burning campfire. "We're not goin' anywhere for a while. How 'bout the long version?"

He nods in assent. "Very well. As yeh wish." He takes a deep breath, rakes one hand through his hair. "Where tae begin... Ah. Et actually truly _started_ on m' last trip tae Aeonar. Tha' elven mage, Mal." Declan shakes his head. "He was a decent lad; quiet, polite, an' from all account kind as well. I told yeh before he was an emmensely talented mage. He passed his Harrowin' no problem, was skilled, controlled, careful weth hes magic. Hes only crime was wantin' tae be _free_. Since he could no' be made Tranquil, an' there was less than no evidence tha' he was a blood mage-"

"Wouldn't've stopped our templars..." I hear Jowan mutter.

"-they decided tae simply lock hem up somewhere he _couldn't _escape from," Declan continues. "So they could stop 'wasting' templars chasin' him down an' haulin' hem back.

"The whole wey from our Circle, Mal was hes usual quiet self, readin' th' only book we'd brought for hem. I made a comment tae one 'a th' men en charge tha' he dedn't seem like the type we usually locked up, an' he retorted thes was prob'ly jest an act tae lull us entae gettin' lax sae he could kell us more easily."

"Jaded much?" Sigrun snorts.

Declan nods. "Tha's wha' I though, but ev'ry time I tried tae bring et up, they told meh tae shut mah mouth an' follow orders. A course, th' phenomenal blood magic attack they were expectin' never came. Mal was no blood mage, fer one, he'd sooner die then harm another livin' soul fer another, an' they'd beaten th' spirit out 'a hem in the ferst few deys on th' road." He sighs, lips twisting in a wry half-smile. "B'lieve et or no', tha' was th' endication I got tha' th' Order might no' be as... pure as I'd been led tae believe."

"Guess it would depend on where you were stationed," I comment.

"Aye, tae a point," Declan agrees. "But I also simply wasn't lookin'. When we go' back tae Starkhaven, I started tae actually _pay attention_. An' I started noticin' thengs. Th' scared looks certain templars got from th' mages, girls who all but i_coweredi_ at th' sound of a man's voice. Th' final straw, however, was Felice's Harrowing."

Jowan winces, and I have a feeling he knows better than Sigrun and I do how badly this could end.

"Felice was one 'a th' more promisin' apprentices en th' Circle; a gangly girl I'm fair certain had some Rivaini in her tae be as tan as she was. She should have passed, passed weth flyin' colors. But th' Kinight-C'mmander only let five menutes pass pass, ef tha', before he told meh she'd had enough time and ef we delayed eny longer, she'd become an abomination." Declan pauses, swallows, staring hard into the fire. "I wouldn't do et. I told hem, with respect, I'd seen mages granted, an' take, as much as ten menutes tae pass who were fine after. I wasn't going tae strike down thes girl when only half 'a tha' had passed.

"So he turned tae one 'a th' other templars an' repeated th' order tae strike her down. Thes time he go' a salute an' enstant obedience."

Sigrun and I gape. Jowan doesn't look surprised.

"Oh, tha's no' th' worst of et," Declan continues grimly. "At mealtime later tha' dey, I overheard an apprentice comment tae another tha' 'maybe Fel wouldn't 'a disappeared ef'n she'd spread her legs fer th' Knight-C'mmander when he asked'."

I didn't think my jaw could go any lower, but it goes an extra inch at this revelation.

"He had her _murdered _because she would sleep with him?!" Sigrun gasps, disbelief lending extra vehemence to her characteristic bluntness.

"Sounds strangely familiar," Jowan mutters under his breath.

"I'd already been thinkin' abou' gettin' out, but thes sealed et," Declan concludes "I knew th' Grey Wardens aren't exactly paradigms 'a virtue, but et's a god sight better than tha'."

"How'd you handle the lyrium withdrawal?" Jowan asks.

"I _endured_," Declan replies simply, his tense posture and flat voice conveying that he'd rather not go into details on that.

"So you just... joined the Wardens first chance you got?" Sigrun redirects.

"Aye," he nods. "Et took some work, convincin' th' man I would make a good Warden, but he finally relented enough tae test meh. I suppose I made a favorable empression b'cause he recruited meh a couple deys later."

"Ever regret it?" I inquire.

"Och, th' nightmare are no' fun, I'll grant yeh tha'. An' mayhaps I should a tried tae _change_ thengs rather than _leave_, but I figure ef they wouldn't lesten when I mentioned minor problems, protesting abou' th' bloody Knight-C'mmander would go nowhere fast."

"Probably true," I nod. "'Specially if you couldn't _prove _he was stingy wit her time 'cause she wouldn't give it up for him."

"Aye, exactly. But there yeh have et," he shrugs. "Mah story. No' as excitin' as some-"

"-But more dramatic than most," Sigrun chips in. "Now, who wants t' help me clean up from dinner?"

"I will," I volunteer. "I know Jowan has first watch tonight an' Declan deserves a pass for indulging our curiosity."

The warrior feigns a bow. "Much obliged, Rahna."

"My pleasure, ser," I grin back as he stands and stretches. "Now, Sig, where do you wanna start?"

_A/N: Sorry this is a tad short(not to mention late *cough*). I had a crazy week, and for some reason typing was making my hands hurt. Declan backstory was worth it though._


	23. Rough Beginnings

23. Rough Beginnings

"Somethin's no' right."

Declan's uneasy comment simply confirms the dread crawling all over my skin. "_Not_ words I want to hear, my friend," I joke, but his grim expression doesn't so much as flicker.

"I feel it, too," Jowan nods. "It's faint out here but it's definitely there."

"Oh, good, so I wasn't just bein' paranoid," Sigrun comments as she joins us in examining the prison door.

"Wouldn't that be better?" I counter, glancing at the dwarf.

"Only if you want a crazy-paranoid dwarf as the one you trust to tie up the boat _and_ guard your back," she argues cheerfully.

"Point," I concede. "Speaking of which, you sure the boat's not goin' anywhere?"

"Relax, Commander," she chuckles. "A sailor I may not be, but I _can_ tie a good knot."

"Sorry, sorry. Just checking, you know?" I shrug apologetically. I turn back to Declan and Jowan. "So we're all pretty much in agreement that something feels off?"

"It doesn't just _feel_ off," Rahna," Jowan corrects. "There's _something wrong_ in there."

"Somethin' magical en nature," Declan adds, hand on his sword hilt. "I... I don' like thes at all..."

"Well, long as it took us to get here, no way we're leaving," I mutter obstinately.

"I'm no' sayin' we should. Jest... we need tae be careful. From th' moment we step through th' door," the warrior replies.

"If you're trying to creep me out, it's working," I inform him dryly.

"I wasn't, but I'll keep en mind how easy et es," he teases before his expression turns serious. "Let's get thes over weth..."

**oOo**

The templars drop their first Holy Smite before we're even all the way through the door. Whatever might be wrong in here, it hasn't affected their _aim_. The blast of pure white energy slams into Jowan, knocking him down and back. His head cracks against the wall and I wince at the sound, fighting a wave of disorientation myself from catching the edge of the Smite's effective area. Fortunately, Declan and Sig don't have the same troubles we do. The two of them lunge toward the nearest templars, Declan slamming his shield against one's chest while Sigrun rakes her dagger across the weak points at the back of the other's knees.

Four more templars charge up from the farther end of the room, and Declan swears. "Whenv'r yer ready, yu two!" He rams his sword into the underarm gap, and his opponent lets out a choked gurgle before collapsing next to his now-headless comrade.

Muttering under my breath about templar and dwarven resistance, I offer Jowan my hand and help him back to his feet. "You okay?"

He nods, immediately grimacing and rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah. For now, at least."

Were we not needed in a fight, I'd take some time to pick apart that qualifier, but I let it go and draw my swords. "Well, then. Shall we?"

When he shoots me a grim smile and fire starts building around his hands, I smirk and melt into the sparse shadows clinging to the walls and corners of the room. I let the others keep the four guards occupied just a few minutes more, wincing at a couple close calls, before I lunge forward and bury my blades in the back of the templar closest to me. I pull them free even as he drops to his knees and duck aside as Declan removes his head with a clean sweep of his longsword.

One down.

Not three feet away, the greatsword-wielding member of the group makes clumsy swings at Jowan until lightning jumps from the mage's fingertips. The templar writhes, shakes, and drops with a clatter next to his fallen sword.

Two down.

Even as I watch this play out, Sigrun parries a flurry of blows from a templar armed much like her, knocking aside his blades and rapping the butt of her axe against his helmet. As he stumbles back, she sweeps his legs out from under him, plants a knee on his chest and her dirk in his throat.

Three down.

You would think, with four against one, the last templar would go down even more easily than his comrades. But his fights like a mag dog, frenzied _almost_ to the point of reckless. He catches me in the side of my head with the edge of his shield; a blow I didn't see coming because it was from the left. When I stumble back head ringing from the blow, I collide with Declan and practically trip the man. He grabs my arm with his shield-hand and hauls me upright, swearing in some language I don't recognize as he charges forward.

Too late. The templar managed to gain himself the previous few seconds he needed to summon up another Smite. This time, I'm pretty sure I hear Jowan swear as the blinding white light sends him reeling. And I have to admit, _that_ is annoying enough for me as a non-mage, I can't imagine what it's like for him. But there's no time to sympathize, or even really check if Jowan's okay, because the templar goes on the offensive. I guess he figures now is the best moment to strike, with our mage too disoriented to help. But I'm fairly certain he didn't count on how pissed I was going to be. I duck under his sword, block the sweep of his shield this time, gouging the inside of his elbow so his shield arm hangs limp.

"Rot in the Void, _bastard_!" I spit, spinning and driving my other blade through the eyeslit in his helmet.

Four down.

All of us simply stand there as seconds tick past, panting, trying to catch our breath. I see Jowan wince, blink as if trying to clear doubling vision, and rub the back of his head again.

"Jowan-"

"Lyrium." He doesn't even look up, just holds out his free hand and waits until Sigrun slaps a good-sized vial of blue into his palm. He's thumbing out the stopper even as his fingers tighten around the glass. He downs the contents in two hard swallows, gagging a little at the taste before gasping as if surfacing after too long underwater. "Thanks," he mumbles, handing back the vial and pressing a faintly glowing hand to the back of his head. I can _see_ the tension bleed out of his posture as the healing spell does its work.

"You gonna be okay?" I ask.

Jowan nods. "I should be."

"Are yeh _sure_?" Declan presses. "I ken pretty much guarantee more templars as we go. How meny more 'a those yeh figure yeh ken take?"

The mage shrugs. "I'm tougher than I look. I'll take as many as I have to to get Lily out of this place."

"And that would be the stubborn streak I helped you cultivate," I chuckle.

"You know me too well," Jowan grins.

Sigrun clears her throat. "If you two are done flirting, dontcha think we should be moving on?"

"We're not flirting!"

The dwarf smirks and I see the corners of Declan's mouth twitch. "See, when you deny it in perfect unison like that an' turn such a _wonderful_ shade of red, I have trouble believin' you."

"I'll haftae second her on tha', C'mmander," Declan adds with a smile. "Yeh aren't doin' much tae change minds weth reactions like tha'."

"Oh, shut it, both of you," I mutter, raking loose hair out of my eyes and trying to make myself stop blushing. "Any insight on what we might find further in?"

Declan shakes his head. "Sorry, no. Thes hall es as far as I went last time. I ken tell yeh, though, ev'ryone else en here es prob'ly possessed."

I'd started to edge toward the hallway to the rest of the prison, but that remark pulls me up short. _"What?!"_

"These lads were," he elaborates. "And ef they were still 'at their posts'-so tae speak- et's a saefe bet whatev'r had them en thrall has th' rest 'a th' place, too."

"Makes sense," Jowan concurs reluctantly. "Maker, why can't things ever be _simple_?"

"Sigrun snorts. "Where's the fun in that?"

He glowers. "I hate you."

"Play nice, kids," I chuckles. "Sigrun, feel up to scouting ahead a bit?"

She nods. "I can do that, boss." It doesn't take long for her to investigate. "Six templars in the big round chanber at the end of this hall. I couldn't get a good enough look into the offices to see what's in there, but it probably won't be any easier than these guys were."

"Terrific," I grouse. "Well, let's get on with this."

**oOo**

Fortunately, thanks to the end of the hallway forming a chokepoint of sorts, it's easier to take down the next group of templars. Jowan just freezes them all as they charge us and we shatter them one by one. An examination of the door at the far end, the one that leads to the actual prison level, yields a frustrating bit of information: you need two keys to unlock the door. Which means we're going to have to visit both wardens' offices, fight whatever's there, and find both keys, since the locks are enchanted to be impossible to pick.

"Maker, kill me now," I groan. None of the others even _try_ to cheer me up, because we all know that yes, it will be _that_ bad.

And it is. The first warden is a bullish man in moderately heavy armor, swinging a greatsword with near-superhuman strength. If he wasn't bad enough, he also has a pair of qunari bodyguards and several mabari as well.

"At least there aren't any templars," Jowan mutters between clenched teeth as he sends a bolt of lightning jumping though the dogs.

"Another case of thanking the Maker for small blessings?" I question, ducking under a qunari blade and spinning to ram my sword through a weak point in his armor.

"You could call it that," the mage retorts, summoning a gout of flame to finish off the mabari.

I gag at the smell of burning fur and try to make myself believe death is a mercy compared to possession as I move to help Sigrun with the other qunari and Jowan turns his attention to aiding Declan with the warden. The two fall in a flurry of blades and lightning.

As Declan and Sig search the warden for his key, I turn to Jowan. "So, um, in the future, could fire maybe be not the first thing you jump too?" I cough. "At least against things with fur? I know fire's what you're best at but..."

He nods, clearing his throat against the acrid tang in the air. "I think that's a good plan."

"Got et!" Declan crows in triumph. "Tricky bastard had et enside hes gauntlet." He stands, a small bronze-colored key dangling from the snapped chain in his hand.

"Now for the other one," Sigrun groans, rolling her shoulders and flexing the fingers of her left hand.

"Yeh alright?" Declan asks.

"Fine," she waves him off. "One of those mabari tried to chomp on my wrist, but the armor stopped it. Worst I'll get is bruising."

"Yeh sure?" He raises an eyebrow at her.

"_Aye_, Pretty Boy, I'm fine," she insists with a grin. "Let's go."

The other warden proves even more difficult than the first one; a scrawny elven woman a few inches taller but about a dozen pounds lighter than me who _excels_ at stealth-as do her six or seven guards. Taking them down has all four of us swearing with various levels of ferocity, from Sigrun's unbroken string of dwarven invectives to Jowan's occasional muttered curse. But we finally succeed, with minimal sustained damage to boot-I have a small cut over my eye, and Declan's shield arm got wrenched pretty good, but that's the extent of it. I let Jowan fuss over what promises to be a new scar while Sigrun loots the warden's corpse. Being either more traditional or less creative than her human colleague, the elf's silver-toned key is on a long necklace and tucked down the front of her armor. The dwarf plucks it free, snapping the chain with a deft twist of her wrist.

Jowan mutters under his breath as he finishes healing my injury, running his fingers lightly along the top edge of my eyebrow.

"What?" I prod, arching said eyebrow as I shoot him a questioning look.

"It scarred," he grumbles. "You'd think by now I'd have enough practice I could heal something this bloody _simple_ without it leaving a scar..."

"Well, fortunately for you," I _like_ my scars," I rib gently. "So I don't mind. Though that one-" I nudge his hand out of the way and trace the ridge myself- "that one feels like it's going to hide in my eyebrow. So no worries." I grin impishly. "And we should get a move on, unless we want Sig to tease us about flirting again..."

Jowan clears his throat and nods, stepping back so I can lead the way back to the double-locked door. It opens with ease once Sig and Declan insert the keys.

"Let me go ferst," Declan suggests, easing the door open.

Remembering the welcome we got upon our arrival, I nod. "Good idea."

Which is exactly what it turns out to be. Three templars stand guard just past the bottom of the stairs down. This time, it's Declan's turn to lead off with a Holy Smite, which stuns and disorients the trio of guards long enough for Sigrun to hamstring one and Jowan to trap another in crushing prison spell. The third, unfortunately, recovers faster than his comrades, and manages to parry my attack when I go for his knees. He also deflects Declan's following attack and unleashes a cleansing wave of light that frees his brother-in-arms.

"Not fair," I hear Jowan groan under his breath-just as one of the templars unleashes a Holy Smite of his own. I've moved far enough into the field of combat to avoid being caught by this one, and I take advantage of how open he leaves himself with the move to ram Vigilance clean through his breastplate. Sig and Declan finish off the other two just in time, as another group of templars charge in from another room.

"Maker, I'm about to get _**very angry!**_" I holler at the ceiling as I move to block the two that beeline for Jowan. "No _sodding_ way!" Sigrun's right besides me even as the words leave my mouth.

Before Jowan's even fully recovered from the first Smite, one of the templars drops another one, this time catching the mage and me in the area of effect. I growl in frustration as the world rocks crazily and wonder how much _worse_ it must be for Jowan. I shake my head to clear the lingering effects and see Sigrun pass the mage a vial of lyrium and wheel to watch his back as he flicks the stopper out and downs it. Declan and I both throw ourselves at the others, taking down a couple and shifting the odds slightly in our favor. An advantage we lose almost as quickly as it was gained when one of the survivors-a lieutenant by his armor-bellows a wordless cry of rage and sweeps me and Sigrun out of the way. Declan is only _just_ too far away to step into he gap, and even as I scramble desperately to my feet, the lieutenant reaches Jowan.

The cry of pain that tears the air, combined with the dull clatter of Jowan's staff hitting the ground, is more than enough to galvanize me into action, nearly choking on rage and dread in equal measure. Sigrun beats me by a fraction of a second, however, tearing the lieutenant's helmet from his head and savagely yanking her dirk across his throat.

I channel my rage into dispatching the templar trying to flank Sigrun and nearly decapitate the man as a result. Declan finishes off the last one at the same time, and the three of us turn almost as one to Jowan.

"You alright?"! I demand, heart refusing to slow it pace when I see the blood oozing down his arm.

"If by 'alright' you mean 'not dying', then yes," he grinds out, hand pressed against the gash on his bicep. "But it hurts like the _blazes_."

"Need more lyrium?" Sigrun offers, holding out another bottle of glowing blue.

"Bless you," Jowan mumbles, extending a bloodstained hand for the vial. She uncorks it before handing it over. It barely takes two heartbeats for him to down the potion and start healing his arm.

Once it's clear any and all danger immediate is past, all of us sag a little in relief.

"Sure you're all good, salroka?" Sigrun asks, quirking one eyebrow at Jowan.

He nods, shooting her a grateful smile. "Yeah. Just not used to actually getting _hurt_ anymore."

"Sorry," I wince. "_I'm_ not used to there being so many."

"Not your fault," he assures me.

"Well, ef we're all good, shall we see what they were guardin' weth sich ferocity?" Declan asks, eyeing the chamber the lieutenant and his guards had occupied. It looks almost like an interrogation chamber when we enter; there's a rack by the far wall, several other devices whose use I don't even want to speculate on, and a few cages-_**cages**_-near the entrance we just passed through. Only one is occupied: a scrawny woman with tangled auburn hair wearing a dirty brown gingham dress.

Jowan sucks in a breath like someone punched him in the gut, and I know.

"Lily?" I try, hesitant all the same. Her head shoots up, terrified green eyes darting from face to face until they meet Jowan's.

And she screams.

_A/N: I hate Aeonar. I really, really do. All those Holy Smites that kept getting dropped? Yeah, that actually happens. I counted once, and got up to *ten* Smites dropped on my mages. Not. Fun. I'm fairly certain Jowan's going to have a concussion of some sort before we get out of here. And it gets worse. (Oh, and, yep, the first thing Lily does when you find her is flip the hell out and scream bloody murder)_


	24. Far From Simple

24. Far From Simple

It's with dual motivations that I frantically try to make Lily stop screaming. First off, we don't know how many guards are in here or how close they might be, and-on a far more personal level-this being her first reaction is _killing_ Jowan; I can see it in his eyes.

Needless to say, it's the former I use to try and shush the frantic woman. "Lily, Lily, shhh! You're going to bring the guards!"

"Silence, demons!" she shrieks, pressing herself back into the farthest reaches of her cage.

I exchange looks with Sigrun and try again. "No, Lily, we're _real_, I promise," I soothe, but she's not buying it.

Hysterical, confused green eyes latch on to Jowan again. "But you're _dead_!" she spits, voice equal parts fear and anger and confusion. "How can you be real if you're _**dead?!**_"

Jowan and I share a look as we realize our little trick near Hafter's Bend came back to bite us in the ass. "No, that's just a rumor, Lily, it's not true," I explain. Jowan's a Warden now, I guess it doesn't matter if someone knows the truth. _Even an ex-girlfriend with every reason to hate him._ "And I know that because I helped start it."

She pulls her knees into her chest and sniffles, not looking convinced.

"The templars who initially reported it identified the... body because of the necklace, right? Because it was too burned to actually know any other way. Or did they leave that part out?"

Lily calms somewhat. "N-No. That was still in there. But a demon could know that. Could... replicate his necklace from my memories." She glances at the hint of pewter that peeks from beneath Jowan's collar.

"Could a demon be a dwarf?" Sigrun cuts in, crossing her arms. "We're magic-resistant, don't go to the Fade when we sleep, and demons have no idea what to do with us. _I'm_ real." She reaches through the bars of the cage and loosely grasps Lily's wrist. "See?"

Lily stiffens in panic, then sags, nodding consent. "You have a p-point," she concedes, voice still shaking with fear. "But then why are you _here_ if you're not demons?"

"To get you out," Jowan replies. "I-I _never_ meant for this to happen, Lily, I swear to the Maker-"

She cuts him off with an acerbic, jaded laugh. "The Maker? He abandoned me not long after you did."

_Okay, __**ouch**_. I grind my teeth together as Jowan flinches. "How was he supposed to do anything?!" I demand. "Aeonar is a _secret_, Lily. Not many know where it is."

"He's here now," she retorts bitterly. "What changed?"

"Ef I may, he met meh," Declan interjects. "I used tae be a templar, an' I knew how tae find thes place; I've been here before."

This seems to placate her somewhat. "Well, fine, but you still can't get me out of here until the demon is dead."

I groan. "What demon?"

"One of the blood mages they locked up in the basement," she explains. "He must've... turned, or something. I heard the templars talking about it, before everything went quiet, and I can feel _It_ in my mind, playing with my thoughts. It gives me such terrible dreams..." she falters. "If you try to take me from here before It's dead, It'll _kill me_!" She's leaning forward in the cage now, hands wrapped around the bars and her eyes pleading.

I _really_ don't like the sound of this-especially since, knowing _us_, it'll be far from simple-but Jowan's looking at me with those desperate blue eyes of his, and I _know_ how much getting her out means to him. So, for Jowan, I nod. For Jowan, I hear the words "We'll handle it" come out of my mouth.

Lily nods. "I'll wait here until you come back. It should be safe enough."

"Let me at least get you out of that cage," I offer, but an examination of the lock reveals a magical barrier of some sort preventing even _that_ small mercy. I offer her an apologetic look. "Sorry..."

"It's alright. It's not your fault." There's a note of venom in her voice that makes it _perfectly_ clear whose fault she thinks it is.

_Oh boy..._ I restrain myself from laying into her. Jowan said himself that she has every reason to hate him. I do think he's in for a downright _acidic_ tirade once we get her out of here. From the look on his face as we leave the room, he's come to the same conclusion.

I shoot him a reassuring smile. "We'll get this done. And even if she chews you up and spits you out once we leave this place, at least it'll be over with, and the three of us-" I gesture at Declan and Sig- "will always like you."

"Always is an awful long time," he mutters cynically.

"Hey." I squeeze his hand. "_Always_."

"Let's focus on the next twenty odd minutes for now, hm?" he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sounds like a plan," I agree. "Especially since we're going in blind..."

"Now you sound like me," he teases, bumping my shoulder. "You're s'pposed to be the optimist here. I'm no good at it."

"You don't have to tell me _that_ twice," I rib, bumping him right back.

**oOo**

The smiles we trade during this friendly exchange turn out to be the last ones for a while. Whatever demon lurks in the basement of this place, it's summoned _lots_ of help from beyond the Veil. The last time I fought this many demons, I was in the Fade. Every single hallway yields more hostile spirits, more possessed souls. And it's not just the guards and templars the demon has bent to its will. There are enough mages and abominations among the numbers that attack us to make that clear.

After one particularly vicious fight against a pair of desire demons and at _least_ three abominations-it's hard to keep track when you're fighting for your life-I decree we need a break. Aside from the fact we're all getting run ragged as a result of practically jumping straight from fight to fight, the last group was especially hard to kill, and one of the abominations tore open Sigrun's arm, ripping through her armor as if it were cloth.

Jowan and I poke around the cell block while Declan patches her up. Both to give them some privacy while he works, and to see if there's anything worth salvaging down here. I've just picked the lock on a rickety desk and found scads of confiscated lyrium when I hear Jowan call my name.

"What?" I holler back, preoccupied with emptying the drawers of their glowing sapphire treasure.

"Found somethin' you'll want to see!" He doesn't elaborate beyond that-probably knows he's piqued my curiosity enough doesn't need to, evil man. Grumbling under my breath that he knows me _entirely_ too well, I cross the cell block to join him.

The cell he's entered is a smaller one, lock both scorched and dripping from the spells he used to break it. A faint humming emanates from the back corner where Jowan stands waiting for me.

"What-" The question dies in my throat as I draw up next to him.

It's a mage. Eyes squeezed shut, hands shaking from fear and effort combined as he struggles to maintain the spell shield. Lank brown hair slides over his face, the tip of a _very_ pointed ear showing through.

"Hey," I say softly, moving toward the elf. "You're safe now."

"No' safe," he mutters, voice quavering. "Never safe. Monsters ev'rywhere. No' safe."

"The monsters are dead," I explain patiently, frowning slightly at the lilt in his voice. "See for yourself."

"_Can't_," he replies desperately, opening his eyes to reveal cloudy purplish-blue irises. "Templars took mah eyes. Can't see monsters. Can't see et's saefe."

I feel a chill trickle down my spine as _lilt_ becomes _accent_. "Declan..."

"Aye, Rahna?" The warrior's behind me faster than I expected, Sigrun at his heels. "What dedja need?"

The elf stiffens, useless eyes darting in a frantic yet futile effort to locate this new speaker. "Wh-Who's tha', then?"

I watch Declan's jaw tighten, can practically _hear_ his teeth grinding together when he sees the elven mage cowering in the corner. He swears under his breath. "Mal?"

The elf shakes his head violently. "No' Mal. No' enymore. No' enyone. They call meh Mage."

Declan's seething, I can see it in his eyes, and I'm suddenly aware of how lucky the guards responsible for Mal's condition are that they're probably already dead. "But yeh _were_ Mal. B'fore yeh were brought here."

The mage nods. "Aye. B'fore th' dark, b'fore th' torture, b'fore they took m'eyes, I was Mal."

"I am so _sorry_ they ded thes tae ye." The warrior's voice is little more than a whisper.

"I-I.. know yer voice," Mal says slowly. "Declan... Th-Th' one who questioned. Th' one who thought et wasn't right."

"Aye." Declan nods, then winces as if remembering Mal can't see him. "Et wasn't right. Et's stell no'."

Mal swallows hard. "Es et safe, though, Declan? Are th' monsters gone?"

"Aye, the monsters are gone, I swear et tae yeh." From the fervor in his voice, I get the sense Declan isn't just talking about the abominations.

"I... I trust yeh," Mal nods, finally letting the spell shield die.

Declan slowly, cautiously, rests a hand on the elf's bony shoulder. "Mal, et's jest me, I'm goin' tae help yeh stand," he explains when Mal flinches.

The mage nods, shaking with a combination of fading adrenaline and fatigue as he allows the ex-templar to help guide him to his feet. "W-Wha' should I do now? Ken I help yeh at all?"

"We're here to kill the monsters," I explain. "No offense, but I don't think you're in the best shape to help with that."

Mal makes a face, fingers tugging aimlessly at his dingy yellow robes. "Yeh speak truth. I'll jest wait here then, shall I?"

"Soun's like an excellent plan," Declan agrees. He motions for Sigrun to give him a lyrium vial, which he passes to Mal. "Here. Tae help get yer strength back."

The mage closes his eyes and cocks his head as if listening. "Does at stell seng tae yu, Declan?"

The look that slides across Declan's face... I can't even describe it. "Aye. I'm no' a templar enymore, so et's no' as loud, but I stell hear et."

Mal smiles and nods, then uncorks the vial to drink the lyrium within.

Declan closes his eyes as if struggling internally before turning away and heading for the door. "Remember, wait here. I promise, we'll come back for yeh."

The rest of us file out behind the warrior.

"You alright, Pretty Boy?" Sigrun asks.

Declan nods, running his hand through his hair before tugging his gauntlet back on. "Lyrium addiction es hard tae shake. Et's easier tae egnore th' song when I have other thengs tae focus on. I'll be fine."

"Good to know, but that's not what I meant."

"I know what yeh meant. I'll be fine."

"We can talk about it later, if it becomes an issue," I decide. "For now, we need to get a move on. The sooner we can see this demon dead and get out of here, the happier I'll be."

"Seconded," Jowan mutters. The door at the end of the hallway opens easily once he blasts the lock, revealing a flight of stairs. "And this looks promising."

"Careful. Remember, we're going in blind. You never know what you'll run into in this place," I warn.

My caution winds up being entirely justified: a group of abominations and undead skeletal warriors surround a man clad in dark red archon robes halfway down the sloping passageway.

At the sight of us, he gives a _very_ unpleasant smile. "Ah, _excellent_. Fresh blood!"

"Oh, Maker, no..." I groan as he draws a small knife and, with a harsh slash across his arm, summons even more of the skeletal soldiers to face us. This place was enough of a pain without homicidal blood mages raising the dead to make things more interesting.

However, if we want to keep going, Void, if we want to get out of here _alive_, we don't have any choice. Letting out my pent-up rage in a wordless scream that's more fitting a berserker than a rogue, I throw myself at this new obstacle, trusting the others to have my back.

_A/N: Because one character with a Starkhaven accent wasn't hard enough to write(Declan, I love you, but it takes seriously mental gymnastics to get your dialogue right *faint*), I had to add in another one. I wasn't really intending to include Mal when I wrote this chapter, he was supposed to be one of those characters that gets mentioned from someone's past but who never actually shows up. But apparently, Jowan's been hanging out with Rahna too much and gotten all free-spirited and headstrong, 'cause he just had to go and throw that wrench in the works. I'll have to figure out what to do with this new addition some other time. _


	25. Pressing On

25. Pressing On

While my faith in the others is well-placed, I am being very quickly reminded why I _hate_ fighting blood mages. This man's an even bigger headache than Caladrius. At least _he_ didn't keep summoning minions every time we killed one.

"Sigrun, go for the mage!" I holler, dodging a clumsy swipe from the last of the abominations before divesting it of first its hand and then its head. That mage is going to keep summoning the skeletal warriors if we try to kill all of them first. We need _him_ dead before we worry about _them_. Once I no longer have the abomination dogging me, I join Sigrun in attacking the mage while Declan and Jowan handle crowd control of the remaining undead. They work well as a team; Jowan immobilizing the skeletons with various spells, and Declan more permanently incapacitating them.

I'm glad it's going so well for them. Sigrun and I aren't having nearly as much success. This blood mage is a tricky one, he keeps moving and dodging in just the right way to make us obstacles for each other, occasionally tossing in a spell to make in even more irritating. But what _I _find most infuriating is that he never loses the superior smirk tugging at his lips.

It isn't until the smirk widens into a positively _malevolent_ grin that we realize he was playing us, trying to get us apart from the men. And we picked up on that just a hair too late.

It starts as a prickling sensation, like when your arm falls asleep. But it quickly escalates until it feels like all the blood in my body is being heated beyond bearing. It hurts too much to even scream, so I can't do anything but stand there, praying desperately that either Declan or Jowan notices, because I can see Sigrun trapped by the spell, like me.

"Rahna!"

_Thank the Maker._ I can't tell which of the two noticed first, because a stonefist slams into the maleficar's chest at the same moment a wave of cleansing light or mana or whatever sweeps through the area, freeing me and Sigrun from the spell's hold.

We both drop to our knees, and while I can't speak for Sig, I know I'm practically sobbing with residual pain as I try to remember how to breathe. I'm dimly aware of Declan's enraged cry as he rams his sword into the blood mage's chest, yanking the blade free almost contemptuously as the man crumples to the ground.

The few remaining skeletons collapse with the death of their puppeteer, and I hear the creak of armor as Declan kneels between me and Sig. "Yu alright?"

"Will be in a second," Sigrun manages, her voice strained. I settle for a nod, my breath still coming in ragged gasps. "Thanks for the... rescue, Pretty Boy."

"Wasn't jest me," the warrior clarifies, as if either of us could've missed the flying boulder that knocked down the mage in the first place.

"No, I know," she nods, sitting back on her heels. "Thanks, Jowan."

"Don't mention it," I hear him reply, followed by the soft rasp of cloth against stone. "Rahna?" There's a hand under my chin, titling upward so my eyes meet his. "You sure you're alright?"

"'M fine," I mumble, heat still fading from my veins. I flinch, startled, as he tucks loose strands of hair back behind my ear. "Jus'... need t' catch m'breath..."

"Good. 'Cause you know life would get awful dull without you."

"Can't have that," I laugh, which morphs into a wince as pain flares through my ribs.

"Rahna?" Jowan frowns in concern.

"Somethin's cracked," I hiss. "Dunno what or when, though."

"Here." Jowan's hand rests lightly over the trouble spot and glows pale blue.

I sigh in relief, leaning more weight on my supporting hand, head tilting down again. "Mmm... thanks."

"Not a problem," he smiles as he stands. "Ready to press on?"

I groan as I accept the hand up that he offers. "If we have to..."

"Yep," Declan and Sigrun reply in unison.

"You two are no fun," I grumble, raking my hair back out of my face again.

**oOo**

The next section of the path runs through underground tunnels, the stone buckling or just _gone_, hinting at how rarely the templars or guards come this way.

"Well, this is pleasant," Sigrun mutters sarcastically, eyeing the muddy ooze sliding down the walls to pool at the base. "Smells like a sewer."

"We know," Jowan retorts dryly, glaring at a drip of the stuff that caught his sleeve in its freefall from cavern roof to floor.

"Yeh do realize voices carry better down here, right?" Declan whispers. "Ef there's enything ahead, yer jest alertin' it tae our approach."

From the way they both go silent, I assume Declan made his point well enough. I know _I'd_ rather have the element of surprise on my side when encountering a demon or a psycho mage.

Of course, nothing can be done about being caught off-guard, and my boot snagging on one of those busted paving stones pulls a startled squeal-no better way to describe it-out of me. Declan's closest and grabs my arm in time to keep me from going to my knees, but it's still more than enough warning to anything lurking down here that we're coming.

I wince and mouth an instinctive _Sorry_ that Declan waves off. He's too preoccupied with what lies ahead. Not too far off, the path forks both left and right, as well as continuing straight. It's the _perfect_ place to lie in wait if you seek to ambush someone, and all of us tense as we get closer.

Sure enough, a trio of huge, powerful rage demons lurk in each of the side paths-both of which dead-end shortly after the split. All six charge us at the same instant.

"Move!" Jowan hollers, and the three of us all obey almost instinctively, barely avoiding the icy barrage that rushes from his staff. Knowing how hard ice spells are for him, I have to admit I'm surprised at how fast he managed to summon this one, but he caught four of the six demons with it so I'm not going to complain.

As Sigrun and I move forward to shatter the frozen demons, I see something else moving out of the corner of my eye. "Dec-"

That's as far as I get before my breath is cut off by a crushing, shrinking cage of kinetic energy. The arcane horror was hiding toward the back of one dead-end, patiently waiting for some adventurer to charge its more bloodthirsty comrades. Which is _exactly_ what we did. And with elves being the most sensitive to magic... well, I'm sure I looked as appealing as a raw steak dangled in front of a hungry mabari.

Fortunately, I have a templar watching my back. Declan does his cleansing thing to dispel the magic, and then drops a Smite square on the bloody thing's head to keep it from doing any more damage.

"You alright, Commander?" Sigrun asks, whirling past with melted ice dripping off her weapons.

"Yep, I'll be fine," I reply, joining her on her demon-smashing spree as Declan charges in to finish off the arcane horror. It recovers faster than expected, however, and quickly summons an ice spell to crust over the warrior's armor. With Declan slowed nearly to the point of immobilization, one of the remaining rage demons moves in for the kill. A gout of flame bursts from its claws mere moments before Jowan hits it with an ice spell that finishes it off.

I'm already lunging to Declan's rescue, one sword batting aside the arcane horror's hands as it begins to summon a new spell before I sink both blades into its chest clean up to their hilts. It crumples, but I whack off its head, just to be safe.

"Commander!Little help?" Sigrun hollers, and I wheel to see the two surviving rage demons converging on her. Jowan's doing what he can, but with the most effective spells against these flaming bastards being his weakest area, there's only so much he can do.

Declan and I both move to help, deflecting blows from fiery claws and praying they don't summon flame. Finally, after what seems almost _too_ long, Jowan summons up another blast of icy magic, freezing the pair of demons solid. With them thus immobilized, the three of us who _don't_ have magic at our disposal attack the blocks of ice until they shatter.

We all stand panting in the aftermath of the battle, trying desperately to catch our breath.

"Everybody... alright?" I ask, and receive a trio of nods in reply.

"More or less," Declan elaborates, wincing as he gingerly explores the side of his neck with his fingers. "I think tha' demon actually got en a good het."

I grimace when I catch sight of the burned skin. That's the biggest problem with rage demons. "Jowan?"

"G-Gimme a minute..." His voice sounds strained, and when I turn to look at him, my brow knits in concern.

"Jowan, you're white as a sheet! What-"

"You _know_ I'm no good with ice, Rahna," he cuts me off, panting. "Takes... a lot."

"Well, I sure don't need you killin' yourself," I grumble, nodding at Sigrun to pass him lyrium. She's already fishing a good-sized bottle from one of her belt pouch.

He downs it quickly, looks a little better, but still drawn, and motions Declan closer so he can take care of his neck.

The wince that crosses the mage's face is so fleeting I almost miss it. But the way his fingers twitch into a loose fist as he finishes healing Declan catches my eyes. Biting back a string of curses about his stubbornness, I grab one wrist and tug his hand toward me.

"Rahna!" Jowan yelps, fingers curling in even further at the pain. I _uncurl_ them as gently as I can and wince at the blistered flesh before shooting him one of Those Looks.

"Jowan, honestly... You _are_ allowed to heal yourself _first_," I sigh in exasperation.

"It's not that bad," he mutters, tugging his hand free.

"Not that... What am I going to do with you?!" I demand.

"Well, I mean, I've had worse," he elaborates, palm glowing blue as he _finally_ takes care of himself.

"I believe you," I retort, hands on my hips. "I just think you're a little too selfless sometimes. Making sure my healer doesn't pass out from pain is kind of important."

"No, I know... Honestly, Rahna, it wasn't that bad, I promise."

With no reason to argue the point further, I nod a concession and look to Declan, deciding to ignore the significant look I saw pass between him and Sigrun. "Since you have the heaviest armor, I think maybe you should take the lead for now?"

He chuckles. "As yeh wish, Rahna."

All of us more than a little tired of this place, we fall in step behind the ex-templar and press on.

_A/N: Sorry this chapter is kinda short. Trust me, this is a better stopping point than where it would be if I'd tried to hit my normal page length. . Also, my family is going on vacation today and tomorrow for mine and my brother's birthdays(he is today, mine is tomorrow), so I decided that I'm not going to post next week. Wednesday's the day I do most of my writing and with that taken over by vacation, I don't wanna be stressing about getting it done. So I was trying to avoid making this a mega-cliffhanger for you guys. I'm not that mean. ;)_


	26. Things Forgotten

26. Things Forgotten

It's easy to tell when we're getting close to the demon responsible for all this, because the number of undead and shades we have to fight gets positively ridiculous. After one nasty fight, I catch Sigrun gnawing her lower lip in consternation as she looks into the pouch where she carries the lyrium potions.

"Don't tell me we're running low," I hiss under my breath, glancing at Jowan.

She nods, wincing. "Considering how many we had when we got here, yeah. I only have... eighteen left an' we had nearly forty walking though the front door."

That honestly scares me, for more reasons than one. "That much lyrium _can't_ be good for a person... Plus, we still have this 'chief demon' to fight-" That's when I remember. "I have more. They were in the desk. With finding Mal and everything I sorta forgot." I dig in my own belt pouches until I've found all the vials I rescued from the mold-riddles desk. "No idea how old they are or anything, but I guess they're better than nothing, right?"

She nods. "He's still going to be going into that particular fight at less than his best, Commander."

I sigh. "I know. Not really anything we can do about it. It is what it is."

After a brief rest to catch our breath and get organized, we continue on. It's not too much further down the tunnel that what there is of a path dead-ends against an ancient door.

Declan has his shield settled on his arm and his sword in hand before we even reach the door, much less _open_ it. "We need tae be careful," he whispers. "Somethin's no' quite right..."

"_Nothing_ in here has been right," Jowan mutters. "Not one bloody thing since we walked through the front door" It's true, but none of us actually say as much as we wait with weapons drawn for Declan to ease open the door.

The first squawking shriek issues before the door is even halfway open, the shade responsible bolting towards us with its single eye glowing fiercely. Declan bats it aside with his shield and Sigrun takes care of it with a well-timed dirk thrust. We enter with cautious speed, all four scanning the room to see what we're up against. Several more shades-all hissing with anger-a pair of abominations, and a desire demon converge on us even as we work out the odds.

"Son of a bronto-humping whore!" I hear Sigrun swear as one of the abominations singles her out, bellowing and shrieking as it attacks. I'd help her, but the other abomination and a couple of the shades hone in on me, so I'm busy enough as it is.

Declan lets loose with a vicious oath at the same instant he drops a Smite on the desire demon, the column of white light leaving spots dancing across our vision, but since it stunned everything coming after us, I think we'll manage. Fire and blades dance together as we take out as many of the creatures as possible before they recover. By the time their daze fades, we're down to two shades, one abomination, and the badly wounded desire demon. Her eyes flicker with rage as she unleashes a spell of her own, trapping me in ice, and slowing Sigrun's movements.

With the odds tipping in their favor, the abomination and shades team up on Sigrun while the desire demon shifts her focus to Jowan. Her ice and his fire meet in a brilliant clash of magic that sends Declan staggering sideways. The abomination turns from Sigrun for a minute to go after the unbalanced warrior-almost as if it was _waiting_ for a moment of weakness.

I struggle against the ice, hating that I can't help, and hating even more that I can't even holler warnings. Jowan's managing the desire demon just fine, and Declan recovers enough to handle the abomination, but the two shades are hammering Sigrun from completely opposite directions and their strategy is beginning to wear her down-and fast.

Finally, after what seems more than an eternity, the spell wears off enough that I can move. I jerk free of the last vestiges of ice and let out a wordless yell of rage as I bring my swords together against one shade's neck. It vanishes with a hissing howl, and Sigrun and I move to help the guys.

Which turns out to be unnecessary. The last couple pulses of a crushing prison spell I didn't see Jowan summon finish off the desire demon, and Declan runs the abomination through, using his shield to push it off his blade.

"Ev'rybody sell en one piece?" the warrior checks, wiping ichor off his sword before sheathing it once more.

"Sure am," Jowan replies, raking his hair out of his eyes.

"Same here," Sigrun chimes in, and I follow with a nod. We look around the room for a door or a tunnel or _something_, but the only one we find is the one we came through to get here.

"What..." Jowan lets the question trail off in a frustrated sigh. "Now what?"

"Maybe it's hidden? Like that back door in Kal Hirol?" Sigrun asks, glancing at me since neither of the others knows what she's talking about.

"Maybe, but why would the templars hide a door in their own fortress?" I counter.

"She chews on that for a second. "Maybe the basement is for the real tough cases, the extremely bad eggs, and so the treatment's... less than ethical and so they don't want their superiors to know about it?"

That actually... I could see that being the case. From what I remember about the history of this place, the templars didn't build it. They _found_ it and decided to use it as a prison. So it stands to reason the original designs may have included a secret room or passage that the templar found and opted to utilize.

"Or," Jowan cuts in, "it's something even less obvious because the majority of Thedas doesn't even know it ever existed."

"Whaddya mean?" I frown as he crosses the room to stand in front of the large, incongruously ornate mirror against the far wall.

"Just because Miri was more 'Teacher's Pet' than I was doesn't mean I didn't read. There was this one book... on elven culture and Dalish legends that mentioned something called Eluvian."

"Which are...?" I prompt.

"Portals? For lack of a better term. From what I read, the Tevinter magisters tried to figure out how to use them, but only unlocked their use for communication."

"They ken do more than tha?" Declan questions, eyebrow raised. We've all moved to join Jowan in front of the mirror, and Sigrun even reaches to touch the frame.

Jowan shrugs. "No one knows for sure. But there were... legends, rumors recorded in this book that said the elves of Arlathan used them for teleportation, as well." He brushes his fingers against the glass, and I have to fight the urge to yelp in surprise when the reflected image bubbles and ripples in a trail behind his touch. The mage rests his hand more firmly against the smooth surface and waits as our reflections melt away, replaced with a different scene; a stone room with large pillars and rickety wooden barriers blocking most of our view. But it stops short of actually allowing us through.

"And how does knowing we need to get there help us if we can't get through?" Sigrun huffs in annoyance.

"Let me try something..." I mumble under my breath, stepping up next to Jowan and placing one of my hands against the glass next to his. _It looks so small..._ I think absently, comparing the two. They're both somewhat callused, though he's _still_ paler than I am, and I can't help but notice how crooked my fingers look next to someone who _hasn't _had theirs broken.

But I don't get long to dwell on these observations, because mere _seconds_ after my skin makes contact with the mirror's surface, it becomes... pliable, mine and Jowan's hands sinking a few centimeters, as if we're pushing against a mattress or thick comforter. We exchange a look and then both reach backwards with our free hand as the ones on the mirror sink even further. Sig and Declan get the message and each grab an extended hand.

The sensation is weird, nearly impossible to describe, sort of a cross between pushing your way through a giant spider's web and watching a wave rush toward you. When it finally lets up, we're standing in the room we saw through the Eluvian, our view less obscured now that we're actually here. Given what I can see about the room now, I'm not sure whether to cry or curse.

It's a _big_ room. Easily twice the size of the throne room in Ferelden's palace. The ceiling is high enough the hulking pride demon-which is going to give me nightmares about Uldred for weeks, I just know it-standing in the middle of the chamber is dwarfed. _This must be the demon Lily was talking about. It sure has been busy,_ I gripe silently as I survey the horde of skeletal warrior that litter the room, with a liberal smattering of revenants thrown in for fun, and a pair of desire demons lurking like attendants near the pride demon.

I hear Jowan sigh in resignation as he takes it all in. "I'm sorry..." he whispers, squeezing my hand apologetically.

I shake my head and squeeze back. He had no way of knowing the place would be overrun with demons when he asked us to help get his ex-girlfriend out.

"Thes es goin' tae be fun..." Declan mutters under his breath. I can't tell if he's being serious or sarcastic. Probably the latter.

"Okay, so overwhelming odds, lots of demons... what's the plan, boss?" Sigrun fiddles with the handle of her dirk as she asks.

"Well, for starters, let's see if we can draw them over a few at a time," I whisper back, eyeing the layout of the room despairingly. The way it's set up doesn't lend itself to sneaking around, and the undead soldiers and demons are grouped too closely to pick them off one at a time. "Think you can get their attention?"

She smirks. "Think I can manage that, yes." She tugs free one of the smallish back up daggers she keeps in her belt and hurls it in a viciously perfect arc that ends with with keen blade buried completely in one warrior's skull. It drops with a clatter, sword skittering a few inches from the pile of bones and pieced-together armor.

Just as I was hoping, the move brings a small group of the skeletal soldiers and one desire demon shrieking toward us. As I draw my swords, I have a fleeting moment where I wish I'd brought Nathaniel and Jerin along. Useless as archers would seem to be in indoor combat, the two of them could wreak havoc in this large, uncluttered chamber. But I chose to leave them at the Vigil, and wishing I'd done something differently isn't going to change it.

The four of us who _are_ here work extremely well together and I need to focus to make sure that stays true. So as Declan Smites the desire demon and Sigrun goes after two of the skeleton warriors simultaneously, Jowan and I trade glances and follow them into the fray.

There's no turning back now.

_A/N: And once again, it turned out shorter than I intended. Sorry. But it would have wound up with a terrible, horrible cliff-hanger if I'd tried to make it the same length as what I've been averaging, so don't get too mad. :P I had a nice long internal debate about whether or not to change the Eluvian to a secret tunnel or something, because it *works* in the game, but from a lore standpoint, I wasn't too sure about it. But after doing some research on DAWiki, I figured it could stay. And Jowan got to show off a bit, so hey, bonus! :D_


	27. Pain and Fury

27. Pain and Fury

This may very well be the most intelligent group of undead and demons I've ever fought. Usually, the summoned skeletons' most advanced attack is simply mobbing their target until they overwhelm it. These, almost right off the bat, do two things that I've never before seen them even consider: they go after the mage, and they try to separate us. The latter works, to an extent; the desire demon and two of her skeletal lackeys draw me and Declan off a short way while the other three warriors keep Sigrun and Jowan from sticking with us.

"This is one smart demon," I growl, dodging a clumsy swing from a two-handed greatsword.

"Or et possessed one smart mage," Declan counters, slamming his shield against the desire demon hard enough to stun her, running her through before she recovers. Her eerie death cry echoes through the chamber and brings more soldiers running. I decapitate the one I'm facing, wheeling to meet this new threat before the bones hit the floor.

It's as this new group of six or so swarms us that I realize just how present a danger we face of being overrun. There are far, far more of them than there are of us, and I don't even want to _think_ about how badly things could go once the revenants notice us.

I hear Sigrun cry out in a mixture of pain and fury and glance over in time to see her jerk her arm free of a well-aimed sword thrust that caught her shoulder. Jowan asks her something and she shakes her head before throwing herself back into the fight, favoring her axe hand only slightly.

"_Rahna_!" Declan shouts in warning, yanking me backwards just in time to keep me from getting cut in two by one of the newly arrived skeletons.

"Ay, thanks," I manage, more than a little chagrined I got so distracted. I of all people should know better.

"Don't mention et," he replies. "An' stop worryin' abou' them. They ken handle themselves; we need tae worry about us right now." I still catch him glancing at Sigrun as she lets out a war cry and straight up _tackles_ one of the skeletons, scrambling to her feet and stomping its skull into dust.

But he's right; the two of us are facing enough peril of our own, we don't need to be worrying about Sig and Jowan on top of that. Distraction is simply a fast track to leaving yourself vulnerable, a lesson I learned the hard way more times than I care to count. This is especially true when facing practically four to one odds that never seem to improve. The rest of the chamber's denizens are onto us, it seems, and for every skeleton we drop, at least one springs forward to replace it. The _only_ mercy I can find in this is that at least it doesn't take much to kill the skeletal minions. So even though there's a small horde of them, they go down a lot faster than an equal number of darkspawn or bandits would.

I sweep the legs out from under an abnormally resistant warrior, figuring we can see how well it fights without a head, but before I can bring Vigilance down on its neck, an all-too-familiar tug yanks _my_ legs out from under me and pulls me helplessly and rapidly across the floor. The cracked, uneven cobblestones jam against my arms, legs, ribs, leaving a host of bruises that are the least of my worries as I skid to an abrupt stop at the feet of a revenant.

**oOo**

It was only when Rahna dropped with a surprised yelp that Declan fully appreciated the _genius_ and power of the demon they faced. It had withheld its stronger servants, throwing skeletal warriors at the four of them like cannon fodder. Now that they were worn down some; tired, weaker, reflexes slowed, it was unleashing the true powerhouses. The strategist in him couldn't help but admire its skill. The templar in him was raging and cursing and just wanted to kill the bastard.

But for now... he whirled to see what had become of Rahna, taking out a pair of skeletons as he did so. The warrior dropped a particularly colorful oath as he watched his commander slide across the floor, her off-hand sword escaping her grip as her passage came to a halt within easy striking distance of a revenant.

_Too far. Tha's jest __**too far**_... he thought grimly. Still, Rahna, was commander and friend both, so he wasn't going to simply give up. The Smite he unleashed was rushed, unaimed, and consequently flared outward from him rather than being properly channeled. It still gave him some breathing room, which he exploited to start working his way toward the elf. It still wasn't going to be enough; the revenant was already preparing to strike and and he was still what felt like miles away. With only one sword still in hand, there was no way Rahna would be able to adequately block what promised to be a brutally hard attack.

"_**No!**_" The angry cry was closely followed by a flare of blue-white light, and the revenant froze solid mid-swing.

Declan spun to look at the mage. Ice spells were hard for him, and the ex-templar didn't really want to think about what it must have taken for his friend to cast it so _fast_. But the hasty double-check he could spare in the middle of a fight had a far from alarming result. Jowan didn't look much worse for the wear, in fact he was currently in the process of cracking a skeletal warrior in the head with his staff. _Unless th' mere fact he used hes staff rather than magic means somethin'..._

A saw-toothed sword grazed his shoulder, deflecting off his pauldron and jolted the warrior from his chain of thought and back to the fight at hand.

**oOo**

Considering I didn't even know Jowan had _noticed_ my predicament, watching the revenant turn into an ice sculpture catches me more than a little off-guard. And I don't waste the chance he gave me, scuttling backwards until I can retrieve my sword and then regaining my feet. I glance over to mouth my thanks, and find my lips twitching in a smirk as he cranks the head of his staff against the head of a skeletal warrior. It reels backward-straight into Sigrun, who's ducked one shoulder and turned herself into the perfect stumbling block. The skeleton goes tumbling and she straightens with a grin, wordlessly passing Jowan a lyrium potion as she moves to watch his back.

I smile to myself, glad that my Wardens work together so well, and turn my attention back to the frozen revenant. It's not going to stay like that forever, and getting rid of it now would definitely make the fight a little easier. Revenants are a pain in the arse.

With a proper application of force-driven in part by my wordless battle cry-the revenant shatters, chunks of ice exploding in a dozen different directions. A few are nice enough to take out skeletons as they fly; slamming into heads or ribcages. One jagged chunk _barely_ misses Sigrun. That's the unfortunate thing about not being able to control where the ice goes when shattered. Well, that and the fact one piece grazed another revenant, and Andraste's knickerweasels do I have its attention now.

As it charges toward me, Sigrun moves to back me up, noticeably favoring her axe hand now.

"You gonna be alright?" I ask, getting better grip on my swords and trying to come up with a plan.

"Don't really have a choice, do I, boss?" she retorts good-naturedly.

"Fair point," I concede, bracing myself to deflect the revenant's opening strike. Declan and Jowan are both busy, so it's all ours. Since I have two good arms and the longer blades, I take point, fending off its attacks to the best of my ability while Sigrun darts in pretty much wherever she sees an opening and does what damage she can. Before too long-way sooner than I expected, if I'm honest-the revenant catches on to our strategy and puts a kink in things. It shield bashes me. Hard. The protruding knot of metal in the center of the shield slams into my jaw with enough force to make me see spots as I go reeling backward.

_Don't be broken, don't be broken..._ I beg mentally as the pain shoots through my entire skull.

With me out of the way-however temporarily-the revenant bears down on Sigrun, dealing multiple heavy blows in quick succession. Tough as she is, she's fighting hurt, and I know there's only so much she'll be able to take. She's already wearing down, I can see it through the spot still freckling my vision; dodging more than blocking, moving without her usual speed and _stumbling_ as she tried to remain in one piece. My legs wobble when I move to help an I'm forced to brace myself against one of the columns just to stay on my feet. A pair of lurching skeletons close in as my vision clears and things get less wobbly, effectively derailing my plans to help Sig.

But that turns out to not matter; a stonefist slams into the revenant's shoulder, throwing off its strike, followed quickly by a lightning bolt.

"Jowan-" I know he doesn't need a reminder not to run through his mana too quickly, but still; first the ice to save _me_ and now this... I'm seriously worrying about him stretching himself too thin.

Especially now that _he_ has the revenant's attention. With a low, deadly hiss, it abandons the panting dwarf and zeroes in on the mage instead. I'm already swearing up a storm in my head as I dispatch my skeletal opponents, praying I can move fast enough to help him.

**oOo**

It was in his head. Ever since they'd set foot in the subterranean chamber, from the moment they'd started fighting, the damn demon had been whispering to him. And Jowan could hear it getting louder the more worn out he got. The more effort he put into staying alive, the less he could block it out.

_**You can't win. Not like this. You can't beat me. Just surrender. Give up. I can give you power beyond your greatest dreams...**_

The harder he tried to ignore it, the more persistent it became. They were too busy fighting for their lives for him to tell the others, but he could hear every order the hulking demon issued its minions.

So he knew when the revenant ignored Sigrun in favor of _him_ that it wasn't simply because he'd shown himself a threat.

_**Such resistance demands a show of power, mage**__._

He and the demon both knew he was too low on mana to conjure another ice spell, and nothing else was going to slow the revenant enough.

_Ohhh, Maker, this is gonna hurt..._

Jowan was already tensing in anticipation when the revenant's sword caught him just below the ribcage.

**oOo**

My internal litany of curses finds its way to my tongue when I hear Jowan cry out in pain.

"Fade-spawned _bastard!_" I scream at the malevolent spirit, cutting my way through the skeletal warriors that crop up in my path.

Declan still beats me to it. Badly as I want to tear that thing's head off, I let him have the honors, because it give me a chance to check on Jowan.

"Rahna, I'm fine," he manages between clenched teeth.

I shoot him my best _Not Buying It_ look and nod at the growing scarlet stain blossoming across his shirt as red drips over his fingers. "That says otherwise."

"No, I- it's just glancing. I'll be fine." His fingers clench slightly against the wound, glowing with what healing magic he can spare during a fight.

"If you say so..." I sigh reluctantly, turning my attention back to the surrounding and heading off to help Sigrun.

**oOo**

_If she only knew_... If Rahna had even an inkling of how egregious a lie he'd just told her, it would've earned him a hard bop on the head and a lecture about not keeping things like this from her. Followed by all three of them risking themselves to keep him safe.

That was why he'd lied. Because the last thing he needed on his conscience was people dying for him.

**oOo**

Things take a drastic turn in exactly the _wrong_ direction after Declan kills the second revenant. The pride demon flings everything it has left at us-from the remaining desire demon and three more revenants simultaneously, down through what skeletal warriors we haven't dismembered or decapitated yet.

"_**The lesson was not learned.**_"

"Uh-oh, Pretty Boy, I think you pissed it off!" Sigrun hollers teasingly.

"I'll apologize later fer breakin' et's favorite toy!" Declan yells back. "Right now I'd rather focus on gettin' out a' here alive!"

"Agreed!" the dwarf and I chorus. Jowan's just concentrating on fighting. The disconcerting stain on his shirt still has me worried. It could just be because he's moving-a lot-but I'd swear it hasn't stopped growing.

"_**You dare presume to defeat me?!**_"

"Sure do, ugly!" Sigrun taunts, taking out the desire demon with a well-thrown dagger.

I don't know if it's her words or actions or bother that so thoroughly enrage the demon, but it takes a step forward and bats at her as if she's nothing, sending her tumbling across the room.

She doesn't get up.

The icy grip of abject _terror_ at the thought of losing another friend is back with a vengeance, and it drives me to the point of recklessness-Declan, too. I can hear Jowan yelling at us that this is what it wants and _ don't_, but we're committed and it's too late.

_**"Enough!"**_ the demon bellows. "_**I shall have my prize. The lesson shall be learned. Submit."**_ It doesn't even wait for me to voice the defiant comment I had planned. It simply raises one hand and utters some spell. Before the thought of resisting has even fully formed in my mind, two of the revenants reach me and Declan, and with strength and speed that surpass even their norms, wrench our arms behind our backs and force us to our knees. Cold steel, humming with some demonic enhancement, presses against my throat. I glance at Declan to see him struggling against a similar weapon, a thin cut leaking blood down the side of his neck.

_**"Submit."**_ The demon's minions all freeze as its voice rumbles, but it's not talking to them. Or us.

All four of its eyes are fixed on Jowan.

_A/N: Annnnd despite all my best efforts, we still wind up with a mother of a cliffhanger. I am so so so so sorry. (Okay, part of me is cackling with evil glee. But only a very small part) I tried... There's just too much to this fight. Way more than I originally thought. I'll have to finish next week._

_ Oh, yes, and I actually felt physical pain when I hurt Jowan. I winced and whimpered and cringed and had to go pace and talk my way through the anxiety. _ He's a fictional character, he's not dead(yet), and he's not even technically mine. Yet I agonized over doing that to him even more than I do about hurting Rahna or Declan who do belong to me. Go figure..._


	28. Breaking Point

28. Breaking Point

Jowan's gaze darts between us and the demon. "Let them go!"

"_**Submit.**_"

"No! I have spent too long proving I'm better than... than _this_!" He gestures with a bloodstained hand, and I throw a concerned look at his side. That stain _is_ still growing, is getting darker, and _he's_ getting paler. Determined as he is, I don't know how long he'll be able to resist if the demon actually tries something.

_**"I can give you power,"**_ it wheedles_** "Power enough to never feel weak or inferior again."**_

Jowan shakes his head. "I don't _want_ your power. Or need it. Now _let. Them. __**Go.**_"

The demon laughs. _**"You cannot refuse my wishes and then expect me to bow to yours, blood mage."**_

I watch him flinch at that. "Jowan-" The revenant presses in with its sword until what I want to say is lost in a struggle to breathe.

_**"If you will not submit for your own gain... perhaps you will do it to earn their lives."**_

Jowan's spine goes rigid at this fresh ultimatum. Horrified, desperate blue eyes latch on to mine, swimming with despair.

"Don't-" Declan begins, before the other revenant cuts him off very much like mine did.

"I can't..." The mage pulls in a deep breath, leaning heavily against his staff. He looks back at the demon. "Don't... don't hurt them..."

_**"Them for you,"**_ the demon persists. _**"Two lives for one. Quite a bargain, is it not?"**_

A sick feeling grips my stomach when I seem him hesitate. _No, no, no, don't even __**consider**__ it, Jowan, please..._ I _know_, with heartbreaking certainty, what that thing will do if he complies. It'll take him and twist him until he barely resembles a shadow of himself and then release the resulting abomination against us. I cannot, _will _not, kill the best friend I have. I can't do it. And that sodding demon knows it.

_**"I'm waiting, **_**mage,"** it eggs. With a sharp gesture of its hand, the revenants tighten their grip, pressing their swords harder against our necks. I cough and gag at the pressure, gaze darting between the ribbon of blood running down Declan's neck and Jowan's eyes.

"No, don't!" His free hand flies forward.

_**"So, will you accept the gift that I offer?"**_ My heart stops as the question slithers out of my worst nightmares and past the demon's lips.

"No," I croak, struggling to get the syllable out, shake my head, _anything_ to communicate that I'd rather die than watch what will happen if he says yes.

But Jowan's head is bowed, eyes on the floor as he wrestles with a choice no one should have to make, and he neither sees me nor answers the demon.

_**"Do you accept this gift that I offer?"**_ the demon repeats, practically gloating it's so sure of victory.

There's a frozen moment in time where the world itself seems to hang in the balance. And then Jowan's head comes up, eyes positively blazing with defiance.

"_No._" He hurls the word like a dagger, glaring at the demon and squaring formerly shaking shoulders. Sickly tan lights flares from the hand that _doesn't _have a death grip on his staff, paralyzing the majority of the demon's minions. Including-both fortunately and unfortunately-the revenants holding Declan and me. While I am grateful they can't kill us or go after him, not being able to to help is _infuriating_. A chill runs down my spine when I notice a faint red tint to the spell, hinting at how, exactly, Jowan's pulling this off.

_Oh, please, no..._ I pray, not even sure if I mean it.

The lightning that follows is blatantly tinged red alongside its more typical purple.

_He kills himself tryin' to save us, and I swear on Andraste's pyre I'll find a way to bring him back just so I can bawl him out..._ I promise myself.

The very few skeleton warriors that managed to resist the paralyzing spell's effects quickly mob him, and just as quickly drop, twitching with the fading vestiges of the reddish-purple lightning.

_**"Resistance is pointless!"**_ the demon bellows, flinging some spell of its own at Jowan. He dodges to the side, and the magic erupts upon collision with the floor. The shockwave catches him, sending him tumbling, but he gets right back on his feet. His staff clatters against the stone as he drops it in favor of casting with both hands, ice encasing the demon to give him a few heartbeats worth of breathing room.

Even as he gathers himself, fingers clenching briefly against his still-bleeding side, the one revenant breaks free and starts moving toward the mage.

Taking a deep breath causes my paralyzed captor's sword to dig into my neck, but I don't sodding care. "Look out!"

_Too late, it's too close, you were too slow!_ my brain screams, but Jowan whirls, another lightning bolt jumping from his hands. This one is blinding in its intensity, quickly followed by a stonefist that puts an end to the revenant. The whole thing takes maybe two seconds before he's turning back to the demon, something new and very, very _red_ coalescing around his hands.

The look on his face as he stares down the pride demon... I've _never_ seen Jowan like this before, and to be honest, it's a little unnerving. In an _Am I ever glad he's on __**my**__ side_ kind of way. I just hope he doesn't kill himself with this badass blood mage moment he's having.

The revenant's grip on my wrists abruptly tightens for a heartbeat before going slack. I hear its armor and sword clatter against the ground as I pitch forward, barely catching myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Declan gaining his freedom in a similar manner. Both of us almost immediately flex fingers and wrists to restore circulation.

"Figured you two might wanna give him a hand," Sigrun rasps, voice pitched low as she wrestles her dirk free of the lat's revenant's remains. She looks _awful_, her bad arm pulled in close to her chest, blood coating the side of her face and accentuating the burns scars she got from the Architect.

"How..." I begin.

"C'mon, boss, I'm tougher'n _that_," she grins lopsidedly. "And I'm really good at playin' dead." She gestures with her uninjured arm. "Now go help, would you? Stone knows we don't need you sulking forever 'cause Jowan soddin' killed himself playin' hero."

Declan chuckles as I open my mouth as close it again without saying anything. Both of us wince as we stretch to retrieve our weapons. The demon yowls as we stand, and Declan raises an eyebrow. "Ready as I am tae help, I don' think he needs et..."

I follow his gaze, and _both_ my eyebrows shoot up. "What is... what _is_ that?"

"I have no idea," Declan shrugs, and Sigrun shakes her head to indicate her own ignorance. Everything else in the room is dead, so the three of us just _stare_ for a minute, trying to figure what spell Jowan summoned.

The demon is all but immobilized by the thick, pulsing red bands that encircle its chest, letting out a pained growl every time a band collapses enough to constrict against its body. I can't decide if it reminds my more of crushing prison or curse of mortality. Maybe some sadistic combination of the two.

_**"Resistance...is...pointless..."**_ The mantra sounds empty now, hollow.

Jowan shakes his head. "I am _not_ yours, and I _**never**_ will be!" He clenches his hands into loose fists, constricting the rings of the spell even further.

The demon _howls_ and flings a spell at him.

One arm flies up, a spell shield glimmering into existence just in time. "No amount of temptation or cajoling is going to change that, and the fact you thought _threatening_ my _friends_ would work just shows how little you know about me!" The hand maintaining the killing spell clenches more tightly, and the demon reels at the pain. Half-dead already, it starts conjuring a last-gasp spell of its own.

I bite back the warning cry surging up my throat. Jowan can see what it's doing, and distracting him now would only end badly.

He smirks triumphantly at the fading behemoth. "Resistance is pointless."

It snarls and throws its spell at the same moment Jowan fully collapses _his_. The demon falls with a last howl of rage, heavy limbs thudding against the floor. Jowan uses both hands to strengthen the spell shield just long enough that the demon's last attack vaporizes against it with a harmless flash. Then he drops both hands and shield, shoulder sagging with exhaustion.

"Jowan!" I'm moving even before gravity wins and drags him to his knees, my fingers digging into his shoulder to keep him from toppling further. "Stay with me," I plead, my own knees connecting harshly with the stone as I tilt his chin up so he'll meet my eyes.

"Rahna..." He's already drifting, too spent to even truly focus. "S-Sorry..." His thumb ghosts over the shallow cut on my neck, hazy eyes registering harsh self-recrimination.

"No, no, no," I hastily assure him, gently tugging his hand away. "That was my own fault. And it's not that deep, besides. I'll be fine."

"...Good..." He winces, sucks in a sharp breath, head bowing as he presses one hand against his injured side. "...oww."

"Hey, look at me!" I demand. "You are _not_ allowed to die on me, okay?"

Another wince pulls at his lips. "No... no promises, boss."

I'm having nightmarish flashbacks to every time I've almost lost someone, from Alistair to Zev to Sigrun and everyone in between. The panic's running deeper this time than I remember, but's it's otherwise the same. "No, no, no, no, _no_; Jowan, I swear..."

But he's too far gone to hear, sagging bonelessly as exhaustion and blood loss claim another victory against willpower that's already passed its limits.

I do the only thing I can: holler for Declan. I realize as I try to support his weight that-skinny as he is-Jowan's kinda heavy.

Declan already has his gauntlets off when he joins me, and from the blood smudged across his hands, I guess he was helping Sigrun. The warrior and I gingerly lower Jowan from his kneeling position, slumped against my arm, to the floor. Moving rapidly yet with all the caution he dares, Declan grabs the collar of Jowan's already-ruined tunic and _rips_, pulling the material away so he can see what we both know is the only serious injury Jowan sustained in this fight.

I feel water trickling through the grime on my face and instinctively smudge it away with a dirty, blood-smeared hand. _Don't cry. Crying isn't going to fix anything._

"Anything I can do to help?" Sigrun asks, limping over.

Declan unleashes a torrent of oaths in what I assume is some Starkhaven dialect and almost roughly bunches as much fabric as he can over the wound in Jowan's side. "Rahna, yer hands here, _now_, an' keep a ferm push or we migh' lose hem."

That's all the motivation I need to obey instantly, pressing my hands against the crimson soaked cloth in a frantic effort to not lose my best friend.

"Pretty Boy, what can I do?" Sigrun repeats, snapping the fingers of her good hand for attention.

"Get mah pack," Declan orders, gesturing toward where he must've let it drop to see to her. He mutters something under his breath, and I catch the words _idiot mage_ as he shakes his head and rakes his fingers through his hair.

"Wh-"

"He pushed hemself too far," he explains brusquely before I even get the question out. "Even b'fore th'-th' blood magic, he pushed too _bloody_ hard."

"I'm gonna want an explanation on that, but later," I reply as Sigrun returns with Declan's pack.

He nods. "Fine. Sig, go en th' side pocket, get out a roll a' bandages, th' wide ones, an' some a' th' paddin' rag, please." She nods and starts digging. Declan turns back to me. "I haftae move hem tae get hes shirt off so I ken bandage tha' proper." He nods at Jowan's side. "Wha'ev'r yeh do, keep pressure on there 'tel I sey let up, got et?"

I nod. "Go it." Seeing Jowan ragdoll-limp as Declan pushes the remains of his shirt down _scares me_. And I mean breath tangling in my throat, I can't think straight _**scares**_ me. "You are _not allowed_ to die," I mutter, shifting my hands slightly as Declan finishes and reaches for the supplies Sigrun hands over.

_"Rahna, only you would think you could keep someone alive just by ordering them not to die..."_ The light-hearted ribbing swirls out of the past in a voice I _still_ know almost as well as my own and I freeze, joints locking at the onslaught of emotions.

_This is different_, I tell myself. _Alistair was my lover, Jowan... we're __**friends**__, that's __**all**__._

_ Are you sure? _The skeptical voice sounds a _lot_ like Sigrun, but I have neither time nor energy to argue the point right now.. Declan's nudging my hands aside to get another look at the wound.

His shoulders sag a little in relief. "Et stopped bleedin' an' he's stell breathin'."

I can't tear my eyes off the angry wound slashing along the bottom edge of Jowan's ribcage. "Sweet Maker's _balls_, how did he keep going?!"

Declan shrugs. "He's very tough, an' very stubborn."

"Gee, sounds familiar," Sigrun teases, shooting me a reassuring smile.

I don't have the willpower to return it, at least not fully. "I guess you don't have to worry about stitchin' it up, 'cause Jowan can just heal it himself when he comes to, right?"

"Aye," Declan nods. "I'm jest goin' tae bandage et so et doesn't bleed on th' way out."

"So... he's outta danger?" I check, needing to hear the actual words.

"Fer th' most part," Declan replies, carefully covering the gash with the cleanest of the padding and winding bandages over top. "There's always danger untel et's fully healed, but I've done what I ken down here. Et's en th' Maker's hands now."

This may be the first time in my life I'm not entirely happy with leaving something in the Maker's hands. Not that I don't think He can handle it, but I'm having having trouble imagining a scenario where the deity that abandoned the world for its sin cares enough about _one_ person-especially a blood mage-to break His silence and help. I'd rather it be in the hands of someone I could trust to care.

_ Andraste's eyes, Anders, I wish you were here..._ The thought is a sharp reminder of what I lost to Rolan and Zimri's bigotry. But wishing for the impossible is not going to improve out situation.

"Well, then..." I sigh. "If that's the best we can do down here, I'd say it's time we got out of this place, wouldn't you?"

"Aye." Declan nods again, securing his gauntlets to one of the straps on the outside of his pack. "_High_ time."

"Don't have to tell me twice, salroka," Sigrun chuckles tiredly. "But what about him?" Her question is paired with a nod toward Jowan. "I don't see him wakin' up anytime soon, not after the arse-whooping he laid on that demon."

A weak smile tugs at my lips at her description. "We'll manage."

"Aye, ef yu two ken carry mah pack m' weapons, I'll manage hem jest fine," Declan promises.

I take the weapons. The pack's got to be the lighter-weight option, and Sig's all torn up while I only have a plethora of bruises and a few little cuts. From the distinct lack of arguments, I figure she agrees with me.

She _does_, however, scoop up Jowan's staff. "Less weight I put on this leg, the better."

"Whatev'r works best fer yu," Declan assures her, ducking his head to get Jowan's arm around his shoulders. His other hand latches on to the mage's belt as he-_**very**_ carefully-stands up.

"You sure that's the best way?" I frown, trying to get the warrior's blasted shield to settle properly against my back.

"Least risk of tearin' hes side open again," he replies. I nod understanding as Sigrun settles the two packs on her good shoulder, gets a firm grip on the weathered staff, and nods her readiness to get out of here.

I'm fairly certain we're of the same mind as we head for the Eluvian; something along the lines of _I never want to see this place again._

_A/N: Ay yi yi. Yes, I invented a blood magic spell. I figure the few you get in-game can't be all there is, and I needed something big enough to take down a demon. Which doesn't have blood, technically, so Blood Wound was off the table(besides, I've had Jowan use that before. I wanted to do something new). I did enjoy making him go all pissed off badass blood mage FAR more than is probably right or decent. Especially because he only uses blood magic as a last resort/out of sheer desperation. But I figure everyone has a breaking point, and the demon found his. Namely, threatening his friends. You don't do that._

_ Aaand Sigrun got a sorta epic reentry, which I loved writing. :3 To be honest, I loved writing the entire chapter. Though I am sorry this wound up being a semi-cliffhanger, because there's still some things unresolved. I will do my best to tie off loose ends and finish with Aeonar next week(I think I can manage that...) and we'll see where things go after that._


	29. Home Free

29. Home Free

The Eluvian gives us a little bit of trouble at first; stubbornly refusing to be anything other than a mirror. I finally grab Jowan's loose hand and press it and my own hand against the glass. Sigrun grabs my elbow as the mirror slowly begins to warp under our touch. I can't help but notice the even sharper than usual contrast between my skin and Jowan's as the room at the end of the tunnel materializes around us. I feel a fresh rush of fear, but squash it down ruthlessly. _He's gonna be okay. Declan said he'll be fine._

"So..." Sigrun clears her throat and I hastily let go of Jowan's hand. "Mal first, then Lily?"

I nod. "Makes sense. We have to pass his cell to get to her."

We toil up the sloping, ill-paved tunnel in silence for the most part, all three too tired to curse when we trip, though from how hard Sigrun's grinding her teeth together, I'm beginning to wonder just how bad her leg _is_.

Still, she suffers in silence, both of us aiding Declan when he needs it. By the time we reach Mal's cell block, all of us are tired enough to curl up on the stone floor and take a nap.

Declan and Sig wait out in the main hall while I go to get Mal. He's still standing exactly where we left him, hands fidgeting nervously with the empty lyrium vial.

"Mal?" I'm careful not to say it too loud, but he's still startled, nearly dropping the vial. "It's okay, it's just me. Declan's friend."

He nods, eyes flickering back and forth as if searching. "Where's Declan?"

"In the hall, waiting. You ready to go?"

"Aye." He holds out a hand, which I gently guide to rest on my shoulder. "Walk slow."

"I will," I promise. "Trust me, we're too tired to walk fast."

"Soun's lieke et's was quite a task," he comments as we begin our walk to join the others.

"You could say that," I chuckle. "I'm Rahna, by the way."

"I know," Mal replies. "Declan an'...an' yer mage both said yer name."

"Well, yeah, but I figured a formal introduction can't hurt, right? Just to be sure." I shrug. "And the mage's name is Jowan, by the way."

"Thank yeh."

"For what?"

"Tha's th' ferst tieme I've been treated lieke a person en four years."

I'm honestly speechless at that, so I don't say a word.

**oOo**

It's amazing how _long_ hallways feel when you're tired. I know the corridor with the cell blocks wasn't this long coming in, but it seems to take _forever_ to get to the room where Lily's waiting.

She obviously heard us coming, face pressed against the bars of her cage. "I can't hear it anymore. You-You killed it?" she demands.

"Jowan did," I reply, shifting Mal's hand to Sigrun's shoulder so I can pick the cage's lock. With the magical barrier gone, it proves to be relatively easy. Which is a good thing, considering how badly my hands are shaking from fatigue.

Lily seems to wilt a little in relief when it clicks open. "Oh, thank goodness..." It's not until she steps out of the cage that she registers Jowan's condition. "What... happened?"

"He pushed harder than he should've killing that demon," I reply. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"You don't have to tell me twice," she agrees, and our ragtag group makes tracks for the exit.

**oOo**

Almost as if on cue, a breeze kicks up as we step out the door and onto the dock. Mal tilts his chin up, and he and Lily both close their eyes and take a deep breath.

"Et's salty," the mage comments, sounding almost _surprised_.

"We're right off the Waking Sea, Mal," Declan explains, shifting his grip on Jowan's belt. "There's prob'ly enough salt en th' air tae coat a decent size fesh."

"Now you're makin' me hungry," Sigrun complains good-naturedly shuffling toward the boat. "Let's hurry up an' get back to camp, yeah?"

"I ken only move sae fast, Seg," the warrior retorts with a dry chuckle.

"Same here, salroka." Despite her pronounced limp and the occasional grimace of pain, the dwarf makes surprisingly good time to the boat and clambers in. "Lily next, and then you help Mal," she directs. After the former initiate and the blind elf are settled in the boat, she motions for me to help Declan with Jowan. It's _beyond_ tricky to get the unconscious mage into the rocking boat without tearing open his side again, but somehow we manage.

Rowing across the channel is pretty much left up to Declan and me as well, seeing how we're the only ones in shape to do it. Much like the hallways from the basement to the cell blocks, this trip seems to take _far_ longer than the journey out did. My arms feel about ready to fall off by the time we reach the mainland docks.

Getting out of the boat without re-injuring Jowan proves to be just as hard as getting in. I am, however, oddly encouraged by the small moan that escapes his lips as Lily and I help Declan resume his pseudo-carrying position. If he's there enough to feel pain, I'm that much less likely to lose him. I hope.

Sigrun outright yelps when her injured leg bumps the edge of the dock, and I frown in concern, truly worried how bad she's hurt. But she waves me off, assuring me it's nothing that can't wait until we've made camp.

"Camp? How... How far's the nearest town?" Lily asks, picking nervously at the fraying sleeve of her dress.

"A day that way," I answer, jerking one thumb over my shoulder, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why?"

"I just... I wonder if it might be best for me to just go," she mumbles.

"Et's almost _dark_," Declan points out incredulously. "Yeh can't travel _now_, especially _**alone**_. Where's yer head, woman?"

Her gaze darts to Jowan and back to the ground. "I-I just think it might be awkward. If I'm still here when he... wakes up."

Heartened as I am that she said 'when' not 'if', I feel a need to make something clear. "Lily, he's the whole reason we came to get you out. Don't you think you at least owe him a _chance_ to talk?"

Her eyes widen incredulously. "_Owe him_? Commander, I owe him _nothing_!"

I grimace and nod. "Okay, yeah, I see your point. Poor choice of words. He's trying to right a wrong. Will you _please_ stick around long enough for Jowan to have a chance to talk to you?"

She sighs, looking uncertain. "Does he _really_ think an apology is going to be enough?"

"Depends on how you would finish that sentence," I reply as we start walking toward where we stashed our extra gear. "Enough to what?" Fix things between you an' make it all sunshine and rose petals? No. He knows you might not-probably won't-forgive him."

Another sigh, and Lily rakes her hair out of her eyes, bunching it in a ponytail. "He... He's not wrong."

I tug a cord free from one of my pigtails and hand it to her. "Here. Sorry it's so grimy, but it's the best I've got."

She smiles. "Better than nothing, right?" She deftly twists knotty auburn locks into a decent bun and ties it with the cord. "_Much_ better. Thank you, Commander."

"Not a problem," I smile back, tucking my freed hair behind my ear.

"Don' walk sae fast," Mal chides lightly, stumbling and tightening his grip on my arm. "I still cannae see, Rahna."

"I know, sorry." I wince in apology even though he can't see me. "You're so quiet I kinda forgot you were there."

"No harm done. Carry on. Jest... _slower_," he request.

"Of course."

"How far's it to your camp, anyway?" Lily queries.

"'Nother... mm, ten minutes, would ya say, Declan?"

"Rate we're travelin? Fifteen," the warrior corrects, maneuvering a tricky bit of hill far better than I would've with an extra person's weight.

"Fifteen minutes," I relay to the initiate.

"I heard, but thank you all the same," she replies. "I suppose... I could stay with you until we reach town. More safety in numbers, right?"

"Exactly," I nod. "You'd be a fairly easy mark if you tried to reach town on your own. Especially right now."

"I-I think I may be more capable of handling myself than you give me credit for, Commander, but I also see your point." She holds up a warning finger. "However, I make no promise about talking to Jowan."

"Understood," I concede. I know I can't _make_ her; short of tying her up and forcing her to listen to Jowan, and I know her last memory of him is _far_ less charitable than what I know of him. But I still hope she'll at least _listen_. Eventually.

**oOo**

Fortunately, nothing's disturbed the hollow where the four of us hid our extra supplies before heading into Aeonar. I didn't think that would be a problem; the area's rather barren. Still, it's a relief to see our stuff untouched. I credit the makeshift shelter Jowan and Declan put up. The outside is comprised primarily of leaves and branches, making it excellent camouflage.

I guide Mal to one of the fallen logs that we used as seats before scrambling for the pile of supplies and dragging out a bedroll. I don't care whose it technically is, I just know Declan needs somewhere to put Jowan before he can take care of Sigrun's leg. Between her tattoos and the dirt and blood, I can't see much of her skin, but I'd still swear she's nearly white with the pain.

And Declan can tell, I know, from the way he glances at her with concern as she sits down next to Mal. He rather anxiously shifts his grip on both Jowan's wrist and his belt. I take that as my cue to hurry, hastily unfurling the bedroll. I can't help but chuckle when I realize that-by sheer luck-I actually grabbed the right one. This way, Jowan won't feel guilty when he wakes up. After the bedroll is ready, I help Declan as he _very_ carefully lowers the unconscious mage to the waiting blankets.

"Could yu help Sigrun get off her armor, please?" he requests, already working at the buckles on his vambraces.

I peek out of the shelter. "Lily's already helpin' her. Which means _I_ get to help _you_. You need freedom of movement to properly treat her leg, don't you?"

"Ef et's as bad as I thenk et es, mos' definitely," Declan nods. Two pairs of hands makes the job go _much_ faster, and soon our resident warrior-healer is down to the dark green shirt and tan pants he was wearing underneath.

"Yu know which a' those es mine, right?" he asks, nodding toward the pile of excess backpack.

"Yep."

"Could yu fetch th' supplies while while I see what kind a' damage our plucky friend sustained?"

"Sure." I tug out my remaining pigtail and rebind my hair in a single ponytail as I look. I finally locate the desired pack-Declan's is newer than mine but more worn than Jowan or Sigrun's-and haul it toward me. A thought occurs and I grab a pair of our spare cloaks before I head for where the former templar is _trying_ to work off Sigrun's boot. Every time he touches it, however, the duster yelps, winces or both.

"Tha's likely broken," he mutters under his breath. "Eny special attachment to these boots, Luv?"

She quirks an eyebrow at the nickname-and I can sense a heart to heart in the not too distant future-but rolls her eyes. "Yeahh, Pretty Boy, they were a gift from my mother when I joined the Legion. _No_, there's not any special sentimental attachment. They're damn_ boots_. I can get new ones."

He smiles at her ribbing. "Good. Then I ken do thes th' easy way." He pulls out a knife and carefully as he can slits the heavy leather.

"Here ya go," I chime in, dropping his pack next to him with a small 'whump'. "And these are for you..." I hand one of the cloaks to Lily, draping the other around Mal's shoulders. He gathers his hair and lifts it briefly to free it from the collar as he nods his thanks.

Sigrun sucks in a sharp breath and mutters a jumbled stream of oaths. "_Stone_, that hurts, Dec."

He winces in sympathy. "I know. Sorry." He sets aside the remains of her boot and gently rolls up the pant leg, mumbling a curse of his own at the condition of her leg.

"Stars an' sun above, Seg... How th' blazes ded yu walk on thes?!"

"Like I told the Commander, I'm tough."

"Well, ef yu want et tae heal proper, yeh ain't goin' tae be walkin' on et fer th' next few weeks," he retorts.

"Isn't J-Jowan a healer?" Mal asks, stumbling on the name as if unsure he's remembered it correctly. "Why couldn't he help thengs along when he wakes up?"

Sigrun chuckles. "B'cause I'm a dwarf, Handsome. Magic doesn't work s'well for us."

"How come he gets tae be 'Handsome' an' I'm 'Pretty Boy'?" Declan protests good-naturedly, mostly as a distraction as he feels out the bruised and mottled flesh of Sig's calf.

"Because those are the nicknames that assigned themselves to you in my head-ouch-_Pretty Boy_." The corners of her mouth twitch despite her best efforts to keep a straight face. "See? It just-oooww_ww_-slides right out."

"Mm-hm..." He sounds a mix of unconvinced and distracted.

"What? How bad is it?" Sigrun demands, flinching as gentle fingers brush over her ankle. "_**Ow!**_"

"Sorry," Declan winces in sympathy, jerking his hand back.

"I know it's not on purpose," the dwarf assures him. "Still hurts."

"Huh, Et _should_; consederin' th' state a' yer leg," he replies. "Et's broke en at least two places, an' I thenk yeh may've messed up yer ankle, too."

Sigrun sighs, wincing as she tries to wiggle her toes. "Lovely."

"Fortunately neither break came thru th' sken, an' I thenk I ken get thengs back where they should be easily enough."

"You're gonna need a splint, aren't you?" I chip in. He nods. "I'll see what I can find..."

I head for a nearby copse of trees to see if there's anything suitable there, trying not not to worry too much about Jowan and Sig.

Easier said than done.

_A/N: Not much to say with this chapter, just that I'm glad we made it out of Aeonar. xD And that the next chapter's gonna be fun, what with trying to run with the little we're given of Lily's character and trying not to completely villify her. I love Jowan to bits, but the woman does have some right to be pissed at him. And I am so, so, so sorry about the delay. I've had a horrible time getting ffnet to cooperate recently, and it wasn't loading my Doc manager page whenever I tried. In the future, if a Tuesday passes without an update and I didn't warn you guys that was going to happen, you can always check my deviantART(user name is FyreQueen89). Posting usually cooperates over there, so updates don't usually get delayed like this. :)_


	30. Selfish

30. Blame

By the time I return to camp with several options for Declan to use as a splint for Sigrun's leg, Lily's decided to make herself useful and started scraping together some semblance of a meal.

"You all don't have much in the way of food," she's commenting as I deposit the various branches I found next to Declan, who nods his thanks.

"We don't wanna carry too much weight," Sigrun explains, face twisting in a grimace as Declan finishes setting her leg. "We were planning on buying supplies for our return trip in town tomorrow."

"Ah, I see." The initiate returns to surveying the options. "So, tell me, how much do Grey Wardens _eat_?"

"Oh, quite a lot," Declan chuckles. "Rahna ken eat almost as much as a full-grown man, an' tha's on a dey she's _no'_ hungry."

"Shut it, would you?" I laugh, tossing a pebble at him. It misses, bouncing off the log between Sigrun and Mal.

"Careful, boss, wouldn't want to cause any further damage," the dwarf teases. "I'm beat up enough as it is."

"This is _very_ true," I concede, staring pointedly at the bloodstained sleeve of her shirt. "You do seem a bit worse for the wear."

Declan snorts in disbelief. "_Tha's_ an understatement ef I ev'r heard one, boss."

"Okay, what have I told you people about callin' me boss?" I huff, pretending irritation.

The two of them grin at me.

Mal chuckles, pulling his cloak more firmly around his shoulder as the temperature drops with the sun. "I get th' sense yeh should no' a' saed enything, Rahna."

"No, you _really_ shouldn't've," Sigrun giggles, the sound changing to a barely restrained yelp when Declan starts splinting her leg.

The warrior shoots her a sympathetic look, gingerly shifting one of the branches as he wraps up the broken limb. "Sorry. I made tha' a lettle too tight dedn't I?"

"Yeaahhhh, just a little, Pretty Boy," Sigrun manages between clenched teeth. "I know you don't want it to slip, but I'd rather not be in constant agony either, ya know?"

"I know, I know. Et's a trecky balance, tha's all," Declan explains. "But I'm almost done. And then I'll taek care a' yer shoulder."

Sigrun nods. "And my head. Ancestors know I don't need anymore brain damage..."

He chuckles. "Yu saed et, no' me."

"Hey!" She punches him in the shoulder. "OOww!"

"Serves yeh right, hettin' th' man who's tryin' tae help yeh," Declan ribs, earning a good-natured dark look from the Legionnaire.

I roll my eyes at the two of them and turn back to Lily. "Sorry, I sorta ignored you there... Anyway I can help?"

"Sure you're up to it?" she checks. "I mean... it seems your group took a beating-" her gaze flicks from Sigrun to the shelter where Jowan lies- "and I just want to be sure I'm not taking advantage."

"No, actually, for once in my life, I got off with minor cuts and bruises," I laugh. "I'll probably be bloody sore in the morning, but for now I'm fine."

"Alright, then..." She rolls up her sleeves and pauses, staring at her hands. They're grimy; streaked with dirt and rust, and I know exactly what she's worried about.

"None of us will care," I promise, holding up my own hands, smeared with dirt and sweat and flaking red-brown of drying blood. _**Jowan's**__ blood..._ I hastily shove that thought out of my head before it brings on another panic attack. "We're just as dirty."

"If not worse," Sigrun chimes in, cautiously peeling off her shirt so Declan can patch up her shoulder. She shivers in the cool air and drapes the stained garment over her uninjured shoulder as Declan begins cleaning the wounded one and Lily and I commence fixing some sort of dinner.

**oOo**

By the time the food is ready-and far more edible than is usual for my cooking-Declan's finished patching Sigrun up, clean bandages peeking out from beneath her grimy shirt, and clean streak cutting through the dirt and blood on her face from the warrior cleaning up her head wound. That one proved to be the least of her worries; a simple, shallow cut that simply bled a lot, as head injuries are known to do.

The anxious knot in my stomach lessens significantly as I watch the dwarf bolt down a huge bowl of the stew Lily and I made, almost as if she's racing Declan to see who can finish first.

The former templar rolls his eyes and plays along. "No' hungry, Rahna? Yer cookin' ain't _tha'_ bad."

I force a smile and continue playing with my spoon, shoving the meaty lumps back and forth inside my bowl. "Still worried..."

Declan follows my gaze to the shelter and the still form within. "I promise, _boss_, he'll be fiene. Migh' no' wake tel mornin', but he'll be okay." He shoots me a comforting smile. "On mah oath as a warrior."

"No offense, but in this case, I think I'd rather have your oath as a healer."

He chuckles. "Then yu have tha' as well."

This time my smile's a bit more natural. "Thank you. In case you haven't noticed, I like to worry about him."

"No, really?" Sigrun deadpans. "I'd never've guessed."

I make a face at her and contemplate throwing something, but she's moving more slowly with all the bandages and I decide not to risk it.

"Why?" Lily asks, her voice quiet, nervous. "Why do you _like_ to worry about him?" Her brow scrunches. "Are you..."

"We're friends. Very good friends," I fill her in. "And... let's just say I've lost enough to wanna be sure I don't lose anymore." I crack a wry smile. "I'm selfish that way."

"I thenk tha's th' kiend a' selfish people are usually welling tae forgive," Mal points out out, carefully setting his bowl aside. He didn't eat much, and I wonder if that's more due to not having a Grey Warden's appetite or not being accustomed to getting decent-sized meals. Probably both, though the latter option makes my blood boil. "Ev'ryone's lieke tha'; no' wantin' tae lose th' people they care abou'."

"Not everyone..." Lily mutters. "I seem to recall being abandoned by a man I _thought_ cared about me."

I bristle. "And unless he lied to me, he _asked_ you to go with him."

"He also said he was going to _give up_ magic. _ALL_ _magic__,_" she shoots back. "I don't think he made good on that promise, or you wouldn't have made him a Warden!"

"He _didn't_ use magic, not for months after I met him, and that was only to _save my life_!" I rake my fingers through my hair. "You wouldn't _believe_ what it took to talk him into joining the Wardens!"

"Well, aren't you special," she mumbles bitterly. "And so he got to play hero and be lauded by the common folk while I spent _**two years**_ in the _worst_ prison in Thedas!"

I snort in disbelief. "And what, you think he's spent the last two years livin' the good life?! Lily... he spent _months_ sleeping in ditches, nearly got caught and killed at least once-" My thoughts drift to the ugly scar on his arm and the look of still-raw pain and terror in his eyes the few times he's mentioned River Dane- "was tortured for weeks by an arlessa who thought he'd summoned a demon to destroy her family-he _hadn't_, by the way-then spent several more months protecting groups of refugees fleeing the Blight until someone showed their gratitude by reporting their apostate guide to the local templars."

"And that just... cancels out all _my_ suffering because he was paying for his mistakes too?" Lily demands.

"No! I did _not_ mean to imply that at all, Jowan would be the first one to admit what happened to you was wrong and his fault. I'm just _saying_ he didn't join the Wardens and live the good life immediately after fleeing the Circle."

She lets out a dry, sardonic laugh. "Fleeing's a good word, Commander. He _fled_; he _ran away_ and left me and his best friend to take the fall for _his_ choices. _Miri_ did more to defend me than Jowan did."

"Whaddya mean?" I frown.

"She tried to tell Greagoir that I didn't know Jowan was a... blood mage, that he'd lied to us. But that didn't _matter_; knowing or not, I was still accomplice to a blood mage."

"That... sounds almost like personal conviction rather than an official sentence," I comment.

"Because it _is_," she replies softly. "That's what I told the Knight-Commander. It was kind of Miri to try and protect me, especially considering what awaited _her_, but I needed to do penance."

"So, wait a second, lemme see if I have this right... Miri offered you an out, you _**didn't **__take it_, and your going to Aeonar is somehow still entirely _his_ fault?!" I demand incredulously.

"If he hadn't _lied_ to us, hasn't been a blood mage, she wouldn't have _needed_ to provide an 'out', so _yes_. It's still his fault."

The _only_ way I keep myself from socking her in her stubbornly set jaw is by imagining how I would've felt if Alistair had lied to _me_ like that. "Miri forgave him, y'know."

"What?!" Green eyes shoot wide in disbelief. "They didn't execute her?"

I shake my head. "They were going to. But there was a Warden, an Orlesian sent to check on these rumors of a Blight. He recruited her just before her sentence could be carried out. We-me an' Jowan-bumped into her in Weisshaupt. One of the first things out of her mouth was that she forgave him."

"Well, she's a better woman than I am," Lily mutters, rubbing one hand over her face. "Because I don't know if I could do the same..."

**oOo**

Our little debate puts a damper on any other conversation, and the five of us finish eating in silence. Cleaning up afterwards is likewise done in silence, though this feels more like exhaustion settling in than the awkwardness of not knowing what to say.

"I'll take first watch," Sigrun volunteers before I can even comment we need to figure things out.

"Are you kiddin' me, Sig? You're in worse shape than the rest of us put together," I protest.

"Commander, if I don't pitch in, it's just you, Declan, and Lily. This way it can be shorter shifts," she argues. "Isn't a two-hour watch better than three?"

"She makes an excellent point, Commander," Declan supports, fighting a yawn. "I know I'm _blasted_ tired, an' th' shorter mah watch th' better."

"An' if I go first, I can just sit here," Sigrun continues. "I have a good view, an' all I need is someone to sleep close enough I can kick 'em for second watch. Or, y'know, if I see something."

"I'll do it," Declan and I volunteer simultaneously.

"I haven't taken second watch in _far_ too long," I insist. "Plus, I outrank you."

He chuckles. "Yu'll get no argument from meh."

"That's settled, then. Declan, d'you think you can get Lily and Mal situated somewhere?"

"Aye, sure." He nods, rising and heading for the pile of knapsacks and blankets.

I turn back to Sigrun. "Just in case this didn't go without saying... I also want you to kick me if Jowan-"

"Duh," she cuts me off with a grin.

"Stop grinning at me like that," I grumble. "It's not like _that_ and you know it."

"Do I?" she feigns ignorance.

"Sig."

"Okay, okay, sorry, boss. Commander. I promise, one sharp kick when it's time for your watch, or if anything's amiss, or if a certain mage rejoins the land of the living."

I shift nervously. "Could you... maybe not phrase it like that? Please?"

She shoots me a sympathetic look. "You're _really_ worried, aren't you? Dec would _tell you_ if-"

"I know, I know," I sigh, burying my face in my hands with a groan. "It's like I can't _help_ it." I've... I've never come this close to losing him before, and it really scared me."

"I'll say," Sigrun comments. "I don't think I've ever seen you this rattled."

"Yeah, well, what I said about not wanting to lose any more people I care about... I _meant_ it," I reply, fiddling with a lock of hair that's worked free of my ponytail and quirking a grin of my own at the dwarf. "Hence all the schemes to keep you around."

"I knew it! Commander, I'll have you know I torn between touched that you enjoy my company so much and mildly pissed that you won't let me go back to the Legion," she informs me.

"Oh, I will. Eventually. After your leg's healed and your dog's grown up s'more. Things like that."

She laughs. "Ah ha. I see. So am I to assume I should postpone my departure indefinitely?"

"Yep. Somethin' like that," I confirm cheerfully.

"Oh, fine. Go see if Declan needs help."

"Wait, I thought I was the boss here."

"That's just what I _want_ you to think," she smirks. "He's takin' an awful long time, and I figure he might need help. You can walk a whole damn lot better than I can right now. So _you_ go see what's takin' so long."

"Oh, fine," I laugh as I stand, following after the warrior and leaving a grinning dwarf behind.

_A/N: Maker, is it wrong that I really, really want to smack Lily? Not saying she's wrong, per se, just that I wanna smack her._


	31. Truce

31. Truce

My sleep is far from restful. In fact, I never make it past a light doze, some part of me constantly tensed, waiting for Sigrun's promised 'sharp kick'. When it comes, however, it's simply because the allotted time has passed and it's my turn to watch. I'd be lying if I said the surroundings had my undivided attention. With how intently I'm listening for any change in breathing, and how often I glance toward Jowan, it would be fair to say everything else had roughly _half_ of my attention. I'm restless and distracted and the hour of my watch seem to creep by. Fortunately for me, by the time I wake Declan for his watch, some sense of weariness has started to build. Maybe I can actually get some sleep tonight. Today. Whatever it is now. Like with Sigrun, I make Declan promise to wake me-or at least _try_-if Jowan comes to during his watch.

"I give mah oath," he promises, raking one hand through his hair and yawning. "Now get tae bed, Rahna. B'fore those dark cercles get eny larger."

I comply with a tired, teasing salute, my prayer I don't sleep _too_ deeply cut off the instant my head touches the pillow.

**oOo**

It was almost disturbingly quiet with everyone asleep. The varying rhythms of breath from the sleepers and the occasional crackle from the much-diminished fire were the only sounds to break the stillness. There was no wind, at least not currently, and the one copse of trees was too far away for any rustlings to be heard, anyway.

Declan shifted on the log. It hadn't seemed this quiet before they ventured inside Aeonar. The former templar spent several minutes mulling over this disparity, before deciding that either the constant sounds of combat that had dominated the previous day made the silence more acute, or he was simply listening harder, paying more attention thanks to adrenaline that hadn't quite worn off yet.

Either way he looked at it, the fact he was listening more intently was the only reason he heard the quiet groan that came from inside the shelter, so low-pitched it was almost more a shaky, painful exhalation than an actual attempt to make noise. By the time he'd shot to his feet, dodged two sleeping elves, and ducked inside the shelter, Jowan was trying to sit up.

Declan winced and hastily pressed a gently restraining hand to his friend's shoulder. "Prob'leh no' th' best idea."

The mage ignored the tacit suggestion in the words, supporting his weight on one arm while his other hand pressed against his wounded side. He pulled in a sharp, hissing breath at the pain. "Where... Where's Rahna?"

The warrior bit back a smirk. Sigrun owed him five silver. "Sleepin'. She's _fiene_, Jowan. Nothin' worse than scrapes an' bruises. En all honesty, we were mostleh worried abou' yu."

"Mmm... 'preciate the concern," Jowan mumbled, trying to summon enough energy to start healing his side. The pale blue light obstinately refused to grow beyond a flickering sputter. "An' thanks for saving my life."

Declan shrugged. "Tha's what friends are for, aye? Tha' an' lyrium." He grinned and handed over a better than decent sized vial he'd worked free of one of the packs.

Jowan's lips curved in a lopsided smile. "Again, thank you."

"Don' mention et." The warrior watched in silence as the mage downed the potion. This time, the light of the healing spell was steady and strong, accenting haggard lines on its caster's face. "Jowan... Jest how far ded yu push yerself tae be _thes_ bad off, sae long after th' fact?" he finally asked, brow creased in concern. "I know fer a fact yu should no' a' needed tha' potion, yu should have enough mana back tae heal yerself, easy. Th' only reason I've ever seen a mage sae bad off es b'cause they pushed too _bloody_ hard. Now, I'm askin' as yer friend. How far-"

"If everyone got out alive, far enough," Jowan cut him off, voice noticeably stronger as the light of the spell faded. "I can't... I can't have anyone more on my conscience, Declan."

"We're a _team_, Jowan. We werk together; protect each other. There's no call fer yeh tae sacrifice yerself for us. All three would be rather put out, I ken tell yeh."

A quiet chuckle escaped the mage. "I have a feeling Rahna would storm the Black City itself t' give me an earful."

Declan snorted. "Och, aye. An' then find a way tae breng yeh back just tae strangle yeh herself. An' Jowan? _I'd help_. We don' want tae lose yu enymore than yu want tae lose us, yeh got tha', yeh daft idiot?"

This chuckle was a bit louder. "What is it with my friends and callin' me that?"

"Don' do idiotic thengs an' we won' call yeh an idiot," Declan pointed out, feeling a grin of his own growing. "We're sae blunt outta fear a' losin' yeh."

"That is definitely Rahna's way. The worse you scare her, the more she yells at you..."

"Speakin' of our fearless leader," the templar chuckled. "She wanted meh tae waek her ef yu came tu."

Jowan caught his friend's arm as Declan moved to leave the shelter. "Could you... maybe, not?" He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't have the energy to endure a grumpy, overprotective Rahna tirade just yet."

Declan let out a quiet laugh. "I suppose I ken taek pity on yeh jest thes once... Mostly b'cause I got a glempse a' grumpy, overprotective Rahna at supper, sae I know what yer en for."

The mage groaned. "She and Lily got into it, didn't they?"

"En all fairness, Lily _technically_ started et. And Rahna _tried_ tae be civil, but her bias definitely showed."

Jowan let out a louder groan and flopped backward. "I'm going back to sleep now. After one more question," he amended. "Is Lily alright?"

The warrior sighed. "Physically, yes. But I dinnae know abou' emotionally or mentally. Two years en tha' place... Maker only knows wha' they ded tae her. I don' thenk forgiveness well be quick tae come, mah friend."

"I know," Jowan mumbled, already half asleep. "Wasn't expectin' it to..."

**oOo**

Jowan's still asleep when I wake up in the morning, but from the way he's rolled onto his uninjured side and buried one arm under his pillow, I'm thinking it's _asleep_ and not _unconscious_, a thought which cheers me up considerably.

"Morning, Commander. Nothing but hardtack and dried meat for breakfast, I'm afraid," Lily informs me as I sit up and scrub sleep from my eyes.

"Don't worry, I've lived off worse," I mumble around a yawn, stretching to get the last kinks out of my back. "Anyone else up?"

"Awake, yes. Up, no," she replies with a small smile.

"Four years wethout blankets or real pellows, I plan tae enjoy them both as long as I ken, ev'ry dey," Mal retorts, voice muffled by one of said blankets.

I laugh. "Don't suppose I can fault you for that. I shudder to think of what will happen when we get you to a real bed."

He lets out an anticipatory groan of pleasure. "Good luck maekin' meh leave."

"Ancestors, you're loud," Sigrun complains good-naturedly. "Some of us want more sleep, thank you very much."

"Some of us need to remember how much distance we have to cover if we wanna reach that town we're aiming for by dusk," I retort with a laugh, rising and accepting a portion of food from Lily. "Thanks. You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to keep busy," she cuts me off with a tight smile. "Keeps my mind from going places I don't want it to."

"Bad memories?" I ask cautiously.

She nods. "Of... varying degree. I imagine _that place_ will haunt my quiet moments for a good while yet."

"Probably," I concede. If what Vaughan did managed to infiltrate my dreams for two months after the fact, I can't even fathom how long _this_ will stick with her. "Um, Lily?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Can I call for an agree-to-disagree style truce?"

An auburn eyebrow quirks toward disheveled bangs. "You may. What brought this on?"

I shrug. "General knowledge that I was tired, grumpy, emotionally drained and more than a tad overprotective last night. I get like that with my friends. _Especially_ if I'm already tired. I'm not exactly taking back anything I said, just... my attitude wasn't great and I'm sorry for that."

"Mm, I was venting a fair bit of my anger toward Jowan on you, Commander," she admits.

"Hey, if it means you've spent some of it by the time you talk to him..."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Lily replies, shaking her head.

I offer a lopsided grin. "Worth a shot. So, truce?"

She nods. "Truce. Now, could you take these to your wounded warrior?" She presses another portion of hardtack and meat into my hands and nods toward Sigrun.

"Technically, I'm a rogue," the dwarf pipes up, having overheard our conversation. "But with the armor I wear, I can see how you'd get confused."

"Very well, I stand corrected," Lily shrugs. "I did wonder, due to your choice of weapons. But I've never known a rogue who could wear armor that heavy before."

"Dwarven endurance for ya," Sigrun gloats playfully, groaning as she sits up. "Yeeeah, that's sore as all get out..." She rubs her back with her good hand, gingerly rolls her bad shoulder, and cautiously reaches to accept the food I offer. "You should probably get Declan up, too. If we need to get movin', ya know. And Jowan."

"If I _can_," I groan, rolling my eyes. "You know how hard he is to wake up even without near-death experiences in the mix."

She grins, because she does know. There was at least one morning on our journey from the Vigil where I gleefully passed the task of 'waking the others' to a formerly unsuspecting dwarf. Declan is cake; you barely nudge the man and he's fully alert. Usually.

Today proves a hair more difficult, between how draining yesterday was and his hours on watch. But it's still easier than waking up Jowan, even on a good day. "Hey, Dec, we need to get a move on." A groan from him and two hard nudges from me later, the warrior is sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Rough night, Pretty Boy?" Sigrun teases as he yawns.

"Seys th' lass who go' ferst watch," he ripostes. "Sleep alrigh', dedja?"

"Didn't wake in agony, so yes. Thanks," she replies, carefully moving so she's perched on one of the log seats rather than her nest of rumpled blankets.

"Et's mah duty an' mah pleasure," Declan returns with a grin.

"Well, then, Pretty Boy, I'll try to get beat up more often," the dwarf ribs.

"I appreciate yer thinkin' a' meh, Seg. Truly, yu are a rare friend," he deadpans.

"Alright, you two. Stop bantering and eat breakfast," I intervene, before Sigrun can think of something cutting and clever to toss back at the warrior. I slant a glance toward the shelter and its occupant. "Unless one of you would rather be the one t' wake Jowan?"

"Och, no, Commander," Declan laughs as he stands and crosses to where Lily set out food. He nods thanks to her before continuing. "I would no' _dream_ a' deprivin' yu a' th' pleasure. B'sides, he's gotten out a' th' comin' lecture once already."

I raise an eyebrow. "He g- He woke up durin' your watch, didn't he?"

He nods. "Saed he didn't have the energy fer a _grumpeh, overprotective Rahna tirade_ righ' then."

I let out a wry laugh. "Said it before and I'll say it again; that man knows me too damn well." I push to my feet, nudging the elven mage as I pass. "Mal, I want you out of bed by the time I'm done."

A long-suffering groan emanates from the cocoon of blankets. "Och, fiene, slaver driver..."

Declan's explanation that Mal has at _least_ ten more minutes-probably more-fades behind me as I duck into the shelter.

"Hey, sleepyhead, time to get up." The unusual, faint sense of awkwardness dissipates almost instantly as he groans and yanks his pillow over his head. I grin and bite back a laugh. _Oh, you are __**so**__ back to normal._ "C'mon, Jowan, we have a good distance to cover today. Dontcha want to sleep in a _real_ bed tonight?"

"Nnngh."

This time I _do_ laugh. "I get the sense you're recovered from the whole almost dying thing." I poke his shoulder. "I need you _up_, ser mage."

Another wordless groan of dissent.

"Sweet mother of... Jowan, _please_," I wheedle. "Declan ratted you out, so I know you're okay. I promise not to give you _too_ much of an earful. Lily's another story, but I'm just happy you're okay."

No sound from the mage, he just tightens his grip on his pillow.

I tap one finger against his heel. "Dammit, Jowan, I _will_ tickle you, Maker as my witness."

"Mmm, don'. Please..."

Another chuckle escapes at the sleep-slurred request. "Well, _since_ you said please. And you did sort of save my life yesterday..." I let the concession trail off as I walk my fingers up his spine to tug lightly on the straggling ends of black hair that peek out from under his pillow. "But I really do need you to get up, lazybones. Ground to cover, remember? Not goin' away with wishful thinking."

"Andraste's bloody pyre, you're persistent," he grumbles, finally peeking out from uner the pillow.

"Expect any different?" I grin.

"_No_," he admits with a wry laugh, reluctantly sitting up and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

I barely give him time to complete the motion before tackling him with a hug forceful enough I nearly knock him back over. With my back to the campsite as I convince myself he's really and truly _fine_, I almost miss Declan's triumphant grin as Sigrun rolls her eyes and slaps a handful of coins into his palm.

_I think I'm going to kill both of them..._ I decide as Jowan's arms settle around my shoulders and the last of my fear crumbles for good.

_A/N: Yes, Declan and Sigrun were betting on their boss. xD The exact nature of these bets... well, that may or may not come out at a later point. :3_


	32. Templar's Rest

32. Templar's Rest

"I am very sorely tempted to bop you right about now," I inform Jowan, holding him tighter as I feel his grip loosen. "What have I told you about scaring me like that?!"

"...Don't do it unless absolutely necessary?" he tries.

I glower and poke him in the ribs. "Don't do it _at all_. You know I don't wanna lose you." My fingers clench in the fabric of his ruined shirt.

"Rahna." Jowan's voice is gentle as he moves to loosen my death grip. When he finally succeeds, he then _makes_ me meet his eyes. "This is about more than me almost dying. Isn't it?"

I nod my concession. "I... had nightmares. Ones where y-you accepted the demon's offer and it turned you into an abomination a-and we h-ad to..." I can't even finish the sentence, terror stealing my voice. He gets the idea, though, this time pulling _me_ into a hug that I have a feeling is meant to be mutually beneficial.

"I'm _fine_, Rahna," he promises. "I have a wicked new scar, but I'm fine. And I would never-"

"I know," I sigh, fingers clenching against his shoulders. "That's the _only_ reason I didn't wake up screaming. Some part of me knew it wasn't _actually_ real. I trust you that much, at least."

He chuckles at that. "Thank you for your confidence. Nice to have friends who believe in me."

I pull back and swat his shoulder. "You know what I _meant_."

"Yeah, you're just fun to tease."

I huff out an exasperated sigh. "Just... get up. Eat some breakfast. Maybe change your shirt so you don't scare any little children we might encounter?" I raise an eyebrow and tug at the bloodstained fabric. "Sigrun's going to stand out enough; we don't need two of you looking like you narrowly escaped death, even if that is the case."

My directives earn me another chuckle as he ties back his hair. "Yes'm. Out in a minute."

I take the hint, grinning as I leave the shelter.

**oOo**

I have every intention of grilling Declan and Sig as to how she possibly owed him money, but the two of them head me off before I even open my mouth.

"You look awful happy, Commander," Sigrun prods as I rejoin them around what's left of the campfire. Declan's trying to coax just a little bit of life from the embers, but he's not having much luck.

I shrug, purposely ignoring the hidden second meaning to her comment. "I'm completely sure none of my friends are going to die on me now. 'Course I'm happy."

"Mm." The dwarf looks mildly peeved I didn't rise to her bait, but shrugs it off quickly enough. "We were just tryin' to figure out the best path to travel."

"Whichever is smoothest," I reply. "I want to minimize Mal's chances of twisting an ankle, since I've proven to be less than the best at guiding."

"Ahh, yer too hard on yerself, C'mmander. Yeh ded fiene, 'cept tha' one small bump."

"Still, with me as a variable, we better play it safe."

Declan shrugs. "As yeh wish." He and Sigrun return their attention to the map, fingers tracing over likely routes.

I pull Lily slightly to the side. "Assuming from something you said earlier that you _are_ going to talk to Jowan, would you rather do it now an' get it over with, or do it once we've reached town and found an inn, where there'd be more privacy?"

She thinks about it for a second or two, biting her lip and fiddling with one fraying sleeve. "Privacy would be better, much as I want to get this over with," she finally concludes, glancing toward the shelter as Jowan emerges, looking a little pale-even for him-but otherwise none the worse for the wear.

"Alright, then. Later it is. That way we shouldn't have to worry about it getting dark while we travel, either."

Lily nods, looking relieved I didn't protest. "There is that, yes."

I know it's going to be _torture_ for Jowan, having Lily _right there_ and not getting to have the conversation he so desperately wants to have. But we need to take Lily's feelings into account, too. Besides, one more day's not going to kill him, is it?

**oOo**

Jowan eats quickly, having figured out on the short walk from the shelter that he's the last one who needs to before we can get moving. While he's eating, Declan, Lily, and I start packing up. Sigrun acts as "Supervisor"-her way of justifying the fact she's ordering us around like _she's_ the one in charge.

It's only after we're all set to travel that she brings up a very good point: "Um, if I'm not s'pposed to walk, how're we getting outta here?"

"Leaving you behind, of course," I deadpan. "Don't worry, we'll be back in the morning with a horse or a wagon or something."

"You wouldn't!" she protests, trying to glower at me. "Not funny, Commander."

"I thought et was."

"Aye, very funneh."

The dwarf turns her glare upon Declan and Mal. "I did ask you! But seriously, how exactly are we managing this?"

"Quite easileh, en all honesty," Declan replies. He crouches in front of her, reaching back to gently tug her forward. Sigrun catches on quickly, scooting up until she can wrap her arms gingerly around his neck. He then hooks his arms under her legs-carefully, with the broken one-and makes sure she's got a good grip before slowly standing.

"Great, riding piggy-back," the rogue grumbles cheerfully. "Now I _**really**_ feel like a five year old..."

"Well, maybe if yu were taller than th' average five year old..." Declan teases.

She loosens her grip and bops him on the head. "Shut up, Pretty Boy. Now the question becomes what happens to our stuff? I'm kind of in the way for your pack, and me wearing mine would prob'ly pull us over backwards."

"Don't worry about it, Sig," I assure her, already slinging Declan's shield over top of my pack. He has his sword belted around his waist, so that's taken care of. Jowan takes Declan's pack in addition to his own, and Lily picks up Sigrun's without a moment's hesitation.

"I ken help, ef yeh need et," Mal offers.

"Mal, we appreciate th' offer, but... d'yu _really_ think et's a good idea tae ask tha' a' yer body after spendin' near on fieve years en prison?" Declan points out, trying to be tactful. "A dey's werth a' walkin' es prob'leh pushin' et as et es."

The mage sighs, shoulders slumping a bit as he nods. "Suppose yer right," he concedes. "I jest don' like feelin' useless..."

"Hey, I'm plenty useless right now, and they still seem to like me just fine," Sigrun pipes up.

"Excellent point," I laugh as I gently guide Mal's hand to my shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get moving so we can make some progress before Declan's back needs a break."

Lily casts one last glance at the smoldering firepit. "Are we sure that's out?"

Jowan turns back back, and one hand flares with light as a thin film of ice crusts over the charmed remains logs. "Now we are."

She raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment as we start off, heading in the general direction of the nearest town.

**oOo**

Between the slow pace needed so Mal doesn't twist an ankle and the breaks Declan needs so he can keep carrying Sigrun, the sky is turning multiple shades of pink, purple and gold when we reach the town. This is fine by me. Templar's Rest is a small town, barely a step up from a village, and a group like ours stands out. The fewer people milling around, the better.

The good thing about this town is that, small as it may be, there are two inns. This is due to the number of travelers they get, being the last town on the way to Aeonar. One inn, the larger one, is for templars and their... charges. The other, a small, cheerful-looking establishment, is for more run-of-the-mill travelers. The innkeeper is a friendly man, perfectly willing to ask no questions regarding the dwarf with the broken leg, or the blind elf, or _anything_ about our group beyond how long we'll need our rooms and did we want heated water for baths sent up? Our answers are 'just one night' to the first, and a vehement and enthusiastic _Yes_ to the second.

Since it's an even split, Sigrun, Lily, and I take one room and the men take the other. Once we're settled in, I offer to go see if there's a merchant still open to buy Lily clothes that are in better shape than her dress.

"Are you sure, Commander? I mean, thank you, but you don't have to do that." She's picking at a sleeve even as she speaks.

I wave away her protest. "Yes, I'm sure. I figure the two of you can fight over who gets the first bath, and I'll get back after the dust settles."

"Ah-ha, so the truth comes to light," Sigrun laughs. "Your plans are for naught, Commander. I'm perfectly happy letting her go first."

"Oh. Well, the offer still stands." I glance at Lily, who chews her lip in thought for a minute before nodding. "I'll do my best to get the right size, but if it's a tad off, don't get too mad."

"Commander, I haven't had fresh clothes in over a year," she returns. "So long as I can wear it, whatever you buy is fine. Though, I would rather too big over too small."

"Noted," I nod, chuckling as I leave the room.

**oOo**

I've almost given up on finding an open tailor when I notice the tiny shop crammed in a back corner of the marketplace. Its lights are still on, and the door looks to be open a crack.

As I draw closer, I can see the plainly lettered sign that reads 'Millie's' hanging in the window between two samples of the owner's handiwork. While they're no Orlesian ball gowns, the outfits do seem well made-best I can tell in the fading light, at least. So I push open the door and step inside.

A rail-thin Rivaini woman straightens from her slouched position against the wall. "Spirits, girl, you lost?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Only if you _don't_ sell women's clothes here."

Her eyes brighten. "That I do. I apologize for my greetin'. Business ain't been the best recently, an' most of the people who walk through m' door just want directions to the grocer's or the inn."

"Well, I came from the inn, and while I will need a grocer, that can wait. For now, I need to purchase somethin' for a friend. I'm Rahna, by the way."

She smiles. "Isla."

My eyebrows quirk again. "Not Millie?"

Isla shakes her head, playing with one of the three small gold hoops that decorate her left ear. "Millie is my mum. She started this place, but can't manage staying on her feet all day no more. So she focuses on sewing and I watch the store."

"Sounds like a good arrangement to me," I shrug. "Now, do you have anything already made, or is it all made to order?"

"The dresses Mum don't sew 'til she has measurements. But I do have blouses and skirts and such for sale already made." She gestures toward one wall of the store.

I wander over and peruse the options, trying to mentally size up what would fit Lily. I'm inclined to go with more cheerful colors, simply because the poor woman's been surrounded by greys and browns for entirely too long. I finally pick out a sage green skirt, cream colored shirt, and a pale pink bodice with darker green embroidery on it. Lily's shoes seemed serviceable enough, so I won't worry about replacing those for now.

When Isla totals everything up, it's less expensive than I was expecting. I overpay her, since I can afford it, and I know she stayed open late for me, before gathering my purchases and heading back to the inn.

**oOo**

Lily's finished and waiting when I slip in the room, perched on the edge of her bed wrapped in a blanket. Apparently the brown dress was consigned to the fire already. Not that I can blame her for wanting to be rid of it.

"There you are," Sigrun comments, gingerly wrestling her way into a clean shirt. "Was beginnin' to worry about you, boss."

"Took a while to find a place that was still open," I explain, setting the bundle down next to Lily. "Hope they fit. There are times I have absolutely _no_ confidence in my ability estimate."

"Warning noted," she laughs, undoing the hasty bow tying everything together. "Oh, they're lovely! Thank you." One arm slips out from under the blanket to gather up the clothes, and she crosses the room to the corner where a changing screen stands.

"Bath's all your, Commander," Sigrun informs me.

"Thanks." I kick off my boots and peel off my sweat-stained tunic, both hitting the floor somewhere near my bed, the rest of my clothes not far behind.

The water's still warm when I slide in, by some miracle, and I can't help letting out a sigh of bliss. "Ooohh, _Maker_."

Sigrun snickers. "That was about _her_ reaction, too."

"What, not yours?" I crack open one eye to look at her dubiously.

The dwarf shrugs. "Can't get my leg wet. 'Bath' for me was sitting next to the tub and wiping off the worst of the dirt. Still felt glorious, don't get me wrong, just not as amazing as you two seem to find it."

"Ah. I see." I let my eye close and decide to just focus on enjoying this for the next few minutes before I worry about anything else.

_A/N: Heh, Sigrun and Declan are just entirely too fun to write together. Seriously. And I'm also sorry about the delay in posting, once again. I really think ffnet is out to get me on Tuesday mornings. XD I'm honestly shocked it's cooperated so well today._


	33. Scars

33. Scars

Knowing I'm the last one in, I shamelessly draw out my bath until the water's gone tepid and my fingers are starting to wrinkle. It's only then, when I'm shivering despite the fire on the grate, that I climb out and dry off.

"Funny how much pleasure you can take from the simple things in life, isn't it?" Lily comments as I pull out clean clothes for myself.

"Sure is," I agree, shimmying into my trousers, damp skin an dark blue fabric sticking together. Someone knocks on the door just as I slip my arms into the sleeves of my shirt. I roll my eyes. _It figures_... "One second!" I hastily raise my arms and yank the grey fabric down over my head even as I walk toward the door. "You ladies both decent?" I check, hand resting on the knob until I get nods from both of my roommates. The sight that greets me when I open the door is _not_ one I would have expected: Declan and Mal, both clean, the latter clad only in a much-too-big pale green shirt that hangs practically to his knees.

"Two thengs," Declan begins, cracking a sheepish smile in answer to my quirked eyebrow, "Ferst, as th' other elf en th' group, d'yu thenk yu migh' have a spare set a' trousers tha' would fet hem?"

"Maaybe," I reply slowly, motioning them into the room. "They'd prob'ly be a little short, though..." Mal's a good three inches taller than me.

"I dinnae care," the mage promises. "I have boots tae wear, no one'll be th' wiser."

"You want a shirt that'll fit better, too?" I offer, digging through my pack and kicking myself for not buying _him_ new clothes too while I was out.

Mal shakes his head shrugs. "I dinnae mind th' shirt bein' sae loose. Et's actualleh quite comfortable. Trousers jest need tae fet a bet better, aye?"

"Mmhm. Here, try these." I carefully curl the fingers of his free hand around trousers the color of charcoal. "They're a smidge big on me, so hopefully, they'll work for you."

He smiles, lifting his hand from Declan's arm to tuck damp hair behind one ear. "Thank yeh, Rahna."

"You said there were _two_ things, Dec," Sigrun prods. "What's the other?"

"Oh, right. Assumin' yu three are done weth baths as well, Mal and I are fiene weth stayin' over here sae yu-" he nods toward Lily- "ken go talk tae Jowan alone."

She looks taken aback at the offer. "Really?"

"Aye, lass, really," he smiles. "Neither a' us es tired yet, an' Jowan's got hemself all twisted up en knots worryin'. Would yeh please go talk tae th' man sae he ken sleep tonight?"

"Maybe he deserves a few sleepless nights," she mutters.

"Lily, he's had at the very _least_ several months'-worth of those directly related to what happened to you," I chip in, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Aye, he has. An' ef that's no' enough, do et sae I dinnae have tae listen tae hem thrash around tryin' tae get tae sleep?" Declan points out with a wry smile.

"Oh, fine." She sighs. "Might as well get it over with anyway..." The former initiate scoots off her bed and heads for the door. "Hopefully this won't take too long."

_Take as long as you need..._ a voice in my head encourages, but I bite my tongue to keep from _saying_ it. Lily knows we don't want to rush her; but on the other side of the coin, I don't want to pressure her into feeling like I'll get on her case if she isn't over there for at least an hour or anything like that.

As the door clicks shut behind her, Mal cautiously shifts his weight and pulls on the trousers. He almost loses his balance when the fabric catches against his toes; pitching forward, hand flying to rest on Declan's arm until he's regained his balance. The pitching motion causes his shirt to shift, and as he wrestles his leg the rest of the way through, I can't help but stare at the fringes of the scar that peeks through the especially loose collar, the one that looks suspiciously like a burn. I look up at Declan, raising my eyebrows, and he nods, tapping one finger against his lips as his eyes telegraph _Later_. Makes me wonder if Mal even knows he has a Chantry sunburst branded into his chest.

"Och, they're perfect. Thank yeh, once again." Mal's voice brings me out of my reverie.

"Good, I'm glad," I manage, trying to sound casual. I can see they're about an inch too short, but that's much better than any of my other pairs would've fit.

He wriggles a bit, as if trying to get them settled properly, a frown creasing his brow. "Feels powerful odd no' wearin' robes, I must admit."

I chuckle. "Don't worry, soon as we get back to the Vigil-my fortress-I'll buy you whatever kind of robes you want. This'll just keep us from gettin' hassled on the road," I explain. I gently nudge fidgety hands out of the way. "Helps if they're on _straight..._" I can't resist teasing as I give the waist a tug to even it out.

An almost sheepish smile curves his lips. "Again, thank yeh." Slender, almost bony hands rake hair back out of his face, one holding it captive at the nape of his neck. "One last request: Eny extra string?"

"Heh, yes, I think so," I laugh. "Let me look." It doesn't take long to find an extra piece of the smooth cord I use for my pigtails. "Allow me." I carefully wrap my fingers around the gathered hair, allowing his hand to drop. Thanks to the semi-dry state, it's easier to handle, but it also makes me notice something. "It's curly."

"Aye, jest a wee bet," Mal chuckles. "An' onleh when et's _clean_."

"Mmm," I hum in understanding.

"So, Handsome, explain somethin' for me," Sigrun pipes up. "Why pull your hair back? It's not really like it can get in your way."

He lets out a small, quiet laugh when he feels me tense. "Et's alright, C'mmander. I dinnae mind. Th' more put-together... 'civilized' I keep mahself, th' easier et es tae remember I'm no' en tha' place nae more."

"Hm. Makes sense," she shrugs. "So then, what're we doin' while we wait for you two t' get your room back?"

"Wanna clean me out in diamondback?" I offer.

"Hmm, that does sound fun," she chuckles. "Whaddya say, Pretty Boy? You in, too?"

Declan laughs. "Why no'? An' we can find a suitably light-hearted line a' conversation tae _relax_," he promises Mal, guiding him to a chair near the table.

"'Preciate et."

Sigrun digs her diamond back deck out of her backpack and leans heavily on my shoulder to essentially hop over to the table; a strategy that works for the short distance.

"You two ready to lose big-time?" the dwarf goads.

"Aye. Ready as I'll ev'r be..."

"Stop gloating and deal."

**oOo**

It was funny how _long_ the hallway seemed now. Great as the distance had seemed to _her_ room when she was a dirty, sore, tired mess, the walk down a few doors to Jowan's room felt like it was taking even longer. Lily swallowed hard, a pinching knot growing in her stomach. What, exactly, did one _say_ to a former lover after two and a half years? Especially a former lover whose actions landed you in prison? _Thank you for ruining my life, you bastard_, was the only thing coming to mind, and she didn't want to start that way. Or end that way. If it slipped out in the middle, when she could do damage control, that was one thing. But she didn't want so venomous an opening, whether the man deserved it or not. And she had to admit, she was wondering how much of a chewing out he deserved.

When she finally reached the door, it took a full minute to work up the necessary courage and knock.

"Y-You can come in."

Lily had to admit, the faint wobble of trepidation in his voice bolstered her confidence. She wasn't the only one who was a nervous wreck about this conversation. She somehow found enough saliva to swallow again, hard, and opened the door.

Jowan had his back to her as she entered, still tugging down his shirt. The redhead caught the briefest glimpse of poorly healed, dark red lash scars, and remembered Rahna's tirade about everything Jowan had gone through after escaping the tower.

_I don't care. He brought it on himself... Maker that looks like it hurt..._ "I-I thought... Declan said you were done and-" She cut herself off, not entirely sure where she'd been going.

"I was," the mage replied. "Just checking to make sure everything was healed up properly." He finally turned to face her, one hand rubbing the lower edge of his ribcage.

"Is it?" she couldn't help asking.

"Mmhm. One time in my life I managed to do something _right_..." He met her eye, so much hope and regret and apology and _fear_ in his gaze, Lily almost, _almost_ felt he didn't need to speak another word.

She used to love his eyes. They were so blessedly _expressive_. She'd always figured such eyes had to mean the man was a terrible liar.

Void, had she figured _that_ one wrong.

And with that, memories of that last time she saw him overwhelmed any sense of nostalgia or charity she'd been feeling creep in. "You wanted to talk to me?"

**oOo**

Jowan tried not to wince at her cool, flat tone. Easier said than done. "I-I just wanted to apologize." He sighed when Lily stiffened, outrage flickering in dark green eyes. "I know, I know. Completely inadequate, too little too late. Story of my _life_. I _never_ meant for us to get caught, I never intended to get you and Miri in such trouble."

"Then why did you run?" she scoffed, crossing her arms.

"You _told me_ to get away from you!" he protested.

"I didn't mean for you to run away like a _coward_ and leave me and you _best friend_ to take the fall for you!" Lily retorted, volume rising.

"What, do you want me to admit to it?! I was. I was a _coward_, Lily, who ran away rather than face consequences when the woman I loved told me she never wanted to see me again!"

"Funny, loving a Chantry initiate didn't stop you from dabbling in blood magic."

Jowan sighed in frustration. She had a point, but at the same time... "I seem to recall you telling me you didn't _care_ about my skills as a mage."

"That wasn't meant to include _**forbidden arts**_!" Lily retorted. "Did _all_ the lectures about the dangers of demons go over your head, or just most of them?!"

"I didn't learn it from a demon!" He slammed his hand down on the table. "I have _never_ made a deal with a demon in my _life_!"

Lily snorted incredulously. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you. Demons are the _only _way to learn-"

"Only way to _master_ blood magic," Jowan cut her off. "I never did anything more than _dabble_."

"Then enlighten me: where else does one learn just enough blood magic to 'dabble'?" she asked, tone still skeptical.

"There was a book... It detailed simple things, the basics. How to... augment spells from another source outside mana, for mages lacking in, um, willpower."

"Such a book still sounds evil, Jowan," Lily muttered. "How do you know where it came from?"

"I don't," Jowan replied, shrugging. "But the things I learned did _not_ require a deal with any demon. Look, Lily..." He sighed heavily and raked his fingers through his hair, "I'm not saying I feel no guilt about using it; I _do_. I can promise two things, though: It's strictly a last resort, and I would never use anyone's blood but my own." He thought about the darkspawn under Kaiten, but didn't bring them up. _Soulless monsters don't count._

"I don't want to get into a debate about this right now," Lily sighed. "Shocking and disappointing as that was, I suppose my _real_ issues are that you _abandoned_ me, and that you lied to me. You said you loved me, but you kept a secret like _that_; lied to my face. How am I supposed to believe you cared about me when you did things like that?!"

"I kept the blood magic a secret to _protect_ you," Jowan countered. "So that _if_ anyone ever found out," it would only be on my head."

"Well, _that_ worked out _so __**well**_ for us," she scoffed.

"Look, Lily, whatever anger or hatred you want to feel toward me is completely deserved. We were in love, I did something _beyond_ stupid, and you paid for it. I'm _sorry_. I've been regretting and paying for it for _two bloody years_. You don't have to forgive me, I'm not asking that-" _Nice as it would be..._ "-I just want you to know: Of all the mistakes I've made in my life, there's nothing I regret more that, leaving you to take the fall."

Lily was quiet for a tortuously long moment, rubbing her arms, biting her lip. "I... I appreciate the apology, I really do. But I don't know if I can forgive you. The things I went through, the scars I have to bear, because of you... Forgiveness is asking a lot."

**oOo**

She almost smiled at the nostalgia as she watched him. However much he'd changed, whatever courage he'd gained, Jowan's hands were still fidgety when he got nervous. And if he was anything but nervous now, she would voluntarily return the That Place.

He nodded acceptance, looking resigned. "I understand."

Something small inside her hated leaving him like this. "I'm sor- I _can't_ right now... Maybe check back in a year or two?"

Another small nod. "I-If it would help... You can hit me," he offered. "Hard as you like. I deserve that and more."

"Tempting..." she couldn't help baiting, but then saw his eyes. "Maker's breath, you're _serious_?!"

"As the Blight."

It was a _very_ tempting offer, she had to admit. "You'll make sure Rahna doesn't kill me afterward?"

He cracked a sheepish smile. "Yes. If she even finds out."

"God point." And with that, she took him up on his offer. She wasn't sure whether it was mercy or vengeance that turned it into an open palmed slap instead of a punch, but it was still satisfying. She felt a little bit of her anger bleed out as his head snapped to the side, a scarlet handprint already blazing on his cheek.

"Feel better?" he asked, feeling gingerly along the welt.

"Just a tad. Thank you." Her palm stung from the contact, but it was a rather satisfying burn. In fact, the satisfaction was such that it almost scared her. She'd never been like this before; vengeful, bottling up anger at slights and lies. "I-I should go..." She turned to leave, the mix of emotions she felt confusing her.

"Lily, wait!"

"Goodbye, Jowan." She felt his fingertips brush her arm, but he honored her wishes, and this time, she was the one to leave.

_A/N: OY. I think I rewrote Lily and Jowan's argument four or five times. *faint* Still not 100% happy with it, but it's better than any of the other attempts. Jowan learning blood magic from a book rather than a demon comes from-where else-Karma's mod. I think she had info from the game to back her up on that, but I don't know for sure. I've just been playing with Karma's mod so long I've more or less started treating it like canon. Oops. xD And Mal. Dear lord, I think my love for this elf tripled in this chapter. *giggle* No idea why. Oh, speaking of Mal, I have art of him now, draw by one of my wonderful friends on deviantART :3 I'll put the link on my profile._


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